


Treasure

by TiaLewise



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deathshipping, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gender Issues, Initial platonic relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Era, Thiefshipping, Trans Character, Triggers are large amounts of blood and hospitals, Why can't I stop mixing Yami Bakura and TKB into one character, Yami Marik has PTSD and DID, gender affirmation surgery, metoidioplasty, sexuality exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaLewise/pseuds/TiaLewise
Summary: Who would have thought something so unexpected could turn into the souvenirs two brothers coveted the most? Modern-day AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ****  
> _I can't be trusted to not write while I'm supposed to be on hiatus. Fucks sake. xD  
> _  
>  **  
> _This is a typical Tia-Lewise work, so expect explicit sexual situations, swearing, and Marik calling people "honey" because that's a headcanon I just can't seem to shake off._  
>  **

* * *

The _adhan_ had been called, and gradually the streets of Luxor quietened as many of its inhabitants hurried off to prayers. The sun beat down heavily on the city, the air heavy with the scent of herbs, spices and perfumes.

Through the quiet, two young men gazed up at a church, admiring the architecture with keen eyes.

“Aren’t these buildings beautiful? The churches, and the mosques…well, _everything,_ in fact.”

“You’re such a sap, Ryou.”

“Heh. That’s dad’s influence. You know what he’s like for anything Egyptian.”

“That _does_ explain why we’re here.”

Ryou and Touzo Bakura, foreigners in an exotic land, found a bench to sit down on, sheltering in the shade from the hot sun. Ryou was the younger of the two, a slender, soft-spoken twenty-one-year-old with skin pale as milk and hair the colour of fresh-fallen snow. Usually his locks hung loose down his back, but for the duration of their stay in Egypt, he had tied it all back, so it wouldn’t stick to his skin when he sweated.

Touzo, who usually went by his surname only, was two years Ryou’s senior and possessed all the rough edges that his brother lacked. His own hair, darker and bordering on steely grey, stuck out in untamed knots beneath the red hoodie he wore to keep the sun off his head. His face bore the scars of the fights he’d gotten into as a teenager, and he carried himself with an uncaring, brusque air. Only their identical skin tones and deep brown eyes marked them as relatives, otherwise, they were as far removed from looking like siblings as could be imagined.

Their father was an archaeologist, studying Ancient Egyptian tombs, and had been on his latest dig for almost a year. The brothers weren’t close to him, but they enjoyed the odd visit to Egypt, so it was a good excuse to fly out from time to time, and they always brought back a few trinkets to decorate their apartments with or give to friends. This time, however, they hadn’t found anything that took their fancy, and in between checking up on their father, they had simply taken to wandering the streets, exploring the areas unfamiliar to them.

Ryou leaned back on the bench, dabbing perspiration from his brow and watching the sparse crowds making their way through the streets. Among them, one young man stood out from the rest. He looked native, and yet his outward appearance suggested he had no desire to fit in with his fellow Egyptians. He wasn’t overly flamboyant, but there was a certain allure about the pale lavender of his eyes, the flash of blonde hair contrasting with the caramel hue of his skin. He smirked as he looked sideways to his brother, seeing that he, too, had noticed. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” Ryou asked quietly.

“Shut up,” Bakura muttered. His eyes never strayed, however, and soon the young man stopped walking, having noticed Bakura’s stare. He raised an eyebrow at Bakura, who stuck his tongue out in reply. A look of surprise crossed the young man’s face, quickly giving way to an amused expression, and he changed direction, heading straight for the brothers.

Without preamble, he dropped down into the vacant space on the bench beside Bakura, though his attention was on both brothers. _“Ahlan wa sahlan,”_ he said brightly in greeting.

_“Ahlan beek!”_ Ryou replied with a smile.

_“Ahlan,”_ Bakura grinned.

The young man said something to Ryou that he didn’t understand, and he frowned a moment before looking to Bakura. “Seriously?” he sighed, shaking his head at his younger sibling. “He’s asking what we’re doing here in Egypt.”

“Oh…damn, I need to brush up on my Arabic. I suck.”

“I’ll say.”

“Oh! You’re Japanese!” their new companion exclaimed, switching into their native tongue seamlessly, shocking them both. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you were fluent in Arabic. I was just wondering what brought you here, is all. You look an interesting pair.”

Ryou laughed softly at that. “Our father’s an archaeologist here in Luxor,” he explained, grateful to be able to use his mother tongue. “We’ve come to visit him, but he’s very busy, so we’ve just been wandering for a while.”

“Really? My sister is an archaeologist too. Perhaps they know each other. Has he ever mentioned an Isis Ishtar?”

Ryou furrowed his brow, but Bakura nodded. “Yeah. Heard her name in passing a few times. Dad’s name is Hiro. That sound familiar?”

“Hiro Bakura?”

Bakura nodded in reply.

“Wow!” the young man laughed. “It’s a small world, huh?”

“Seems it,” Bakura murmured. “What’s your name, then?”

“Oh, it’s Malik.”

“Ma…lik,” Bakura repeated slowly, but Ryou stumbled over his pronunciation, his soft Japanese tongue struggling not to replace ‘L’ with ‘R.’ Bakura rolled his eyes at his brother. “Your Arabic really does suck, kid.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I don’t mind Marik. That’s what everyone calls me back in Japan, anyway,” Marik smiled. “Hey, um…this might be a little forward, but if you’ve got some time, maybe you’d like to meet my family? Put faces to names and all that. I’m only visiting, myself…I actually live back in Japan, and it’s pretty awesome to have met people here that live there too.”

If Bakura was interested before, he was rapturous now. Leaning forward, he surveyed Marik with curious eyes. “Where in Japan?”

“Domino. Do you know it?”

“Do we know it? We fucking live there too.”

“Seems that coincidence isn’t a strong enough word,” Ryou beamed. “Yes, in that case, we must come and meet your family, Marik! I would certainly be honoured, though I can’t speak much for grumpy guts here…oh, gosh! How rude of us. We haven’t introduced ourselves yet! I’m Ryou, and my brother is Touzo.”

“Bakura,” the elder snapped. “Only _he_ gets to call me Touzo,” he added, jerking a thumb towards Ryou.

Marik’s gaze settled on Ryou for a moment, confusion evident in his expression. Ryou felt a blush rising up his cheeks, and turned away, tugging uncomfortably at his fringe; to his relief, Bakura took charge of the situation, yanking Marik to his feet with one hand and holding out his other for Ryou to take. “No time like the present. Lead the way, Marik. Let’s get this over and done with.”

* * *

The Ishtars were not well off by any means, but Isis enjoyed reasonable comfort in her profession and was able to afford a spacious apartment in the city centre. At twenty-five, she was four years older than Marik, and living with their adoptive elder brother, Rishid, who assisted Isis in the day-to-day running of the local museum digs and exhibitions.

Ryou and Isis got on like a house on fire. Within minutes of them stepping into the house, Isis had practically swept Ryou off his feet with her chatter about work, and soon they had both retreated into the sitting room, mugs of tea in hand, lost in animated conversation.

That left Bakura in the kitchen with Marik, who was making up more drinks, and Rishid, stirring various pots on the stove. “So…” Marik purred, passing a mug to Bakura. “Tell me more about yourself. You look as though you’ve got some riveting stories to tell.”

“Not in front of your brother I haven’t,” Bakura chuckled. “A bit too violent for the dinner table, I’m afraid.” He looked down into his mug, recognising the ruddy-hued drink as karkady. He didn’t care much for the stuff, but took a sip anyway. “Erm…well, I’m twenty-three, and I work for a tech company back home. Graduated from university last year and it’s all been a breeze since then. What about you?”

“Not much to tell,” Marik replied. “I’m twenty-one, and I live with my brother – not Rishid, I have another – and I work at a rehab facility, you know, the ones that help out kids who’ve been in trouble.”

“How very altruistic of you.”

“Nah, not really. It’s a good job, though, and rewarding.” Marik took a sip from his own mug, and Bakura noticed, with a wry smile, that his fingernails were painted a deep purple, almost black. “I moved to Domino a year ago,” Marik continued, “and I like it there. A lot more going on than in this stuffy old city. I mean, the history’s nice, but I’ve been surrounded by it my whole life, so I’m bored now, you know what I mean?”

Bakura had always very much enjoyed Luxor, so he didn’t know what Marik meant. Nevertheless, he shrugged, opting to take another sip of his drink.

Rishid put his stirring spoon in the sink, and left the room. The moment he was gone, Marik let out a quiet giggle. “Thank fuck for that.”

“What?”

“I’ve been dying to tell you since I met you that you’re really cute.”

Bakura rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Marik.”

“Ha, I thought you’d say something like that. But I’m serious. You’re cute, Bakura.”

Bakura shook his head behind his mug, exasperated. After a few moments, he held out his hand. “Phone.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to drop it right into my mug and then laugh.” Bakura’s face was poker-straight, and Marik just blinked at him, unsure of whether he was being serious. Bakura grinned and flexed his fingers, gesturing again. “Idiot, I want to put my number in it.”

A look of realisation dawned on Marik. “Oh, that makes sense. Give me yours as well.”

“Sure thing.” Both men passed their phones over and inputted their details. “And before you ask, no, I’m not on any of that social media crap,” Bakura muttered as he gave Marik his phone back. “I don’t like enough people in the world to want to see what they’re up to all the damn time.”

“That’s a shame,” Marik replied. “You’re going to miss out on all my perfectly filtered and edited selfies.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to send them to me regardless.”

“Oh, yes. Expect your WhatsApp to be flooded from tomorrow.”

“I’d complain, but somehow that doesn’t seem like a bad deal.” Bakura shot Marik a wink, and got a sultry batting of eyelashes in return. “Okay, _now_ who’s the cute one?”

“Touzo Bakura, are you flirting with me?”

“Pfft. Don’t flatter yourself, Ishtar.”

Their banter was broken by the sound of feet plodding gently into the room, and a blonde-haired man traipsed in, paying zero attention to the occupants of the table as he raided the fridge. “Hey, _akhun_ ,” Marik called, “did you see we’ve got guests? – Oh, Bakura, this is Kek, by the way.”

Kek looked over his shoulder, a carton of juice in his hand. His eyes, darker than Marik’s, locked onto Bakura, who gave him a blank-faced wave. A staring contest ensued for several seconds, then Kek nodded, closed the fridge, and shuffled off with the juice carton. Bakura stared after him, frowning. “Your brother is a bit weird.”

“It’s not his fault,” sighed Marik. A saddened look haunted his delicate face, but he didn't further broach the subject, because Ryou popped his head round the door at that moment. Marik smiled at him politely. "Everything okay, Ryou?"

"Yes, thank you! Um, Isis is wondering if we'd like to stay for dinner. We have time, don't we, Tou?"

Bakura nodded. "Yeah, we didn’t have anything else planned as far as I remember."

Immensely pleased, Ryou gave a thumbs-up and disappeared back into the sitting room. Bakura glanced over at Marik, who had hopped up to boil more water for tea, and felt his stomach give an odd somersault in response. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before, but never had he felt it come on so quickly after meeting someone. He could only hope it would bode well for the both of them.

Kek was rather more talkative over dinner. He didn't speak much to Bakura other than answering the odd question, but he had taken a keen interest in Ryou. Both were fans of tabletop RPGs and horror films, though they refrained from discussing the gorier details in front of Isis and Rishid. It turned out Kek was Marik's twin, non-identical and younger by fifteen minutes, though he himself appeared several years older by his tall stature and bulk of muscle. His hair, the same shade as Marik's, stuck up wildly and deliberately in all directions, adding another few inches to his height and giving off an impression of well-structured laziness.

"I think we should get together for a games night soon!" Ryou said brightly to Kek, who nodded in agreement as he ate. "When do you go back to Domino?"

Kek paused to swallow his mouthful before speaking. "In three days. You?"

"We don't go for another week. I could add you on Facebook or something, though? And we can figure something out from there?"

"Sounds good," Kek grinned. "What luck that I'd come across a Domino nerd on our jaunt back home!"

Isis looked positively delighted that her brothers were getting on well with their guests. "I must chip in here," she said in her soft, sweet voice, “and say that it has been a pleasure to meet you both, Ryou and Bakura. Your father had mentioned having two children around the same age as Malik and Kek, and I was wondering if you would ever cross paths. I'm very glad you did."

Rishid nodded in agreement with his sister. “Do you feel as though you have made friends?”

"Definitely!" Ryou grabbed hold of one of Kek's hands with both his own. "This one likes practically everything I do, so I'm not letting him go!"

"Hey now, people might start talking," Kek laughed, a faint blush colouring his copper-toned cheeks.

"And this one's a grumpy git, but I think I can tone him down," Marik winked at Bakura, who kicked his shin under the table by way of reply. "And he shows his love with violence! I think you're better off with _this_ brother, Kek, you love all that gory shit."

Kek blinked at Marik, then looked to Ryou, to Bakura, and back to Marik. Ryou gave a little self-conscious cough, and Kek raised an eyebrow at Marik. "Nah," he replied, "I like this one better." He flung an arm round Ryou's shoulders and squeezed, prompting him to giggle. "Bakura looks like he'd faint at some of the movies we watch."

"Hey, I take great offence to that!"

"Oh yeah? What's your favourite horror film?"

"Erm...Final Destination?"

Kek threw his head back and cackled madly. "Pathetic!"

Beside him, Ryou burst out into infectious giggles. “He isn’t that bad, actually,” he told Kek, “but he does have a horrible habit of eating all the popcorn within the first ten minutes of the film.”

“Look who isn’t getting invited to film night, then!”

“Ha, as if I’d want to sit and bore myself silly anyway,” Bakura shot back, scowling at Kek. A small, petty argument ensued, which Marik shamelessly egged on and Ryou, laughing infectiously, tried to stay out of but failed miserably. Isis and Rishid, amused, cleared away the table and carted the plates through to the kitchen, waving away Ryou’s offer of help. “It certainly will be quiet when they go back home, won’t it?” Isis smiled at Rishid as she began loading the dishwasher.

“I’ll say,” Rishid replied. The faintest of crinkles around his eyes gave away the emotion in his usually stoic gaze. After everything his younger brothers had been through, it was a joy to see them upbeat and laughing again.

“Safer, as well,” Isis sighed. “I do worry for them, you know.”

“Hmmm…me too.”

“You’ve seen the news recently, haven’t you?”

“Been keeping tabs on it, yes.”

“It’s hard enough for us, being a Coptic family. Add Malik and Kek’s… _persuasions…_ to that, and we have a recipe for discriminatory disaster. I don’t want to come home from work one day and find they’ve been arrested, or worse.”

Rishid grimaced at that. “It may be time to relocate. Better for all of us.”

“I fear you are right, _akhun.”_

* * *

Ryou and Bakura had booked hotel rooms, rather than staying at their father’s place, as it was always full to bursting with paperwork and artefacts that made navigating the place hazardous at best. After leaving Isis’s apartment in the evening, Bakura slipped into Ryou’s room to play some video games with him, then retreated back to his own room around midnight so he could shower.

As Bakura stood under the hot spray and scrubbed shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered to Marik. He wasn’t usually one to take notice of the goings-on around him, much less the people that passed him by, but Marik was a lucky coincidence, and a damn attractive one at that. It was clear from their interactions that Marik had been flirting with him all evening, and Bakura couldn’t pretend he been innocent in reciprocating. It had been a few years since he’d last had any intimate contact with anybody, so to say he wasn’t tempted by the sultry Egyptian beauty would have been a complete lie.

Luckily for him, that temptation was clearly mutual, as was indicated by the message Bakura opened on his phone a few minutes after exiting the shower.

_“I don’t believe we said a proper goodbye, Bakura. Well…not the way I would have liked, in any case.”_

The message was in Arabic, so it took Bakura a few seconds to decipher it, but the picture that had been sent alongside it was enough to scream its intent and send his blood pressure skyrocketing at the same time. “This one better not be going on your Instagram, you dirty bastard,” Bakura muttered to himself, suppressing a gleeful grin as he messaged back, _“Is this one of your famous selfies?”_

_“Oh, no. This is for your eyes only, honey.”_

_“We haven’t known each other long enough to be using pet names.”_

_“I’m sure I’ll get to know you_ very _well over the next few weeks.”_

_“Why not start now?”_

The phone was silent for several minutes, but eventually Marik messaged back, _“Where are you staying?”_

Bakura sent over the location of the hotel and the room number, then tossed his phone aside, hoping to whatever merciful god there might be out there that Marik was bringing lube, because there was no doubt in his mind what was about to go down. Suddenly feeling a little nervous, he began searching through his luggage for clean clothes that didn’t make him look like he gave no fucks about his appearance.

By the time Marik arrived, Bakura had changed into his best jeans (the only ones without rips in the knees), thrown on one of his many band t-shirts, and tied his hair into a loose side plait. Judging by the look on the blonde’s face as he let him into the room, he’d made a good impression. “Hmmm…you scrub up well,” Marik smirked, looking Bakura up and down appreciatively. “Trying to impress me?”

“You wish,” Bakura muttered, rolling his eyes.

Marik laughed softly, stepping forward, straight into Bakura’s rather wide personal space. Picking up Bakura’s silver plait, Marik twirled it round his finger as he leaned closer to Bakura, watching the pink tinge that had begun to spread over his normally pale cheeks. “I suppose I ought to give you that goodbye,” Marik purred, “but I get the feeling it might be rather… _extended._ You see…there’s so much I have to express before we part ways…”

Bakura had to resist the urge to yank his hair away from Marik’s grasp and sneer at his melodrama. Instead, he hooked a finger into Marik’s belt loop and tugged him closer. “I’ve all night,” he whispered, “so _extend_ it as long as you need.”

That seemed to be all the confirmation Marik required. Quick as a flash, he released Bakura’s hair and shoved him backwards. “Strip,” Marik ordered, unzipping his biking jacket.

Well, who was Bakura to argue with such a voice? It gave him tingles down his spine, a surreal thrill at what he knew was soon to come. Grateful that his clothes were loose and came off easily, Bakura threw off his shirt and yanked his jeans to the floor. “I hope you came prepared,” he grinned, now clad only in his boxers, “because I had no plans to be getting laid while I was here.”

“Way ahead of you.” Marik pulled a bottle of lubricant and a few condoms from the pocket of his now discarded trousers, “and I must say, I’m rather flattered you put those plans aside for little old me.”

“Fuck you, Ishtar.”

“Oh? Is that how you want this to go?”

“Um – ”

“I mean, I’m good with either, really.”

Bakura scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I’ve always bottomed, if I’m honest.”

Marik laughed softly, setting their “supplies” on the nightstand. That done, he situated himself behind Bakura, pushing him till he leaned forwards over the bed, and slid a hand up the inside of his thigh, feeling the paler man shiver beneath his touch. “Oh, this is going to be fun…”

Their boxers hit the floor mere seconds later, and Bakura didn’t fail to notice that Marik had opted to keep his shirt on. He couldn’t find the breath to ask him why, as Marik’s mouth was trailing steadily down his spine while his hands palmed and squeezed at his backside. The rush of sensation had Bakura feeling giddy, almost high on excitement and lust. It had been too long since he’d last tumbled between the sheets with another person. “Jeez, you’re _shaking,”_ Marik murmured against Bakura’s tailbone. “Just how pent up _are_ you?”

“I guess you’ll find out,” Bakura chuckled, though he tried desperately to quell the spasms in his muscles. It was all for naught, however, when Marik dropped lower and spread his cheeks, flicking his tongue around the outer rim of his asshole. Bakura cursed and dug his fingers into the bedsheets, feeling his thighs begin to quiver uncontrollably. The flicks became broad licks and gentle sucks, sending Bakura almost out of his mind with pleasure and anticipation.

“Too much?” Marik asked. “You’re still shaking.”

“N-No,” Bakura gasped out, “I’m fine.”

“Hmm, scrap cute, you’re adorable.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll be the one doing that, honey.” Marik pulled back, wiping his lips. Standing, he walked round the edge of the bed and snatched up the lube, but Bakura slid further up the bed and grabbed his wrist. Before Marik could ask what Bakura was doing, the silver-haired man had leaned forward to run his tongue up the underside of Marik’s cock.

Marik’s breath hitched, and he dropped the lube to the bed, opting instead to thread his fingers through Bakura’s hair, thoroughly messing up his previous attempts at neatening it. Bakura couldn’t care less by this point. His mouth worked away at Marik’s shaft, teasing him into a shivering, panting mess.

“D-Damn…you’re good at this…”

Bakura glanced upwards, a smirk playing around lips shining with saliva and precome. Marik’s lavender eyes were closed in bliss, his cheeks lit up an endearing shade of pink. Bakura figured he’d make this easier on the both of them, and shifted a little so he had a better sense of balance. Grabbing the lube, he dispensed a generous amount onto his fingers and began to prep himself while he continued to pleasure Marik, savouring the silky sensation of the lube against his skin, the tempting throbs of the heated flesh gliding in and out of his mouth.

After a time, Marik opened his eyes, looking downwards with a surprised expression at the sight of Bakura. “Someone’s eager to get started,” he remarked.

Bakura gave one last suck upwards, letting Marik’s cock drop out of his mouth with a _pop._ “Aren’t you?” he smirked.

“Of course, honey. I’m simply…enjoying the view.” Marik picked up the condom and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth as he clambered onto the bed and situated himself behind Bakura, yanking his fingers away. “But I don’t think I can wait much longer, Bakura. You’ve riled me up something rotten.”

“Hurry the fuck up, then.”

“Oh? I seem to recall you saying you had all night.” Marik rolled the condom down his length and applied extra lube to be on the safe side. “I’m going to hold you to that, Bakura, so you’d better let me take my sweet time with you…”

He pushed in then, and Bakura gasped at the intense fullness. He tried to buck back, craving more, but Marik held his hips down firmly, setting his own pace. Bakura submitted quickly enough to him, content to drop his head to the mattress and fist his hands in the blankets, groaning with each slow, measured thrust. It was clear Marik enjoyed having the upper hand in the bedroom, dominating his partner, and that was what Bakura was used to anyway, so for the time being, he had no desire to turn the tables.

“You might just be – _ah! –_ the fastest fuck buddy I’ve ever picked up,” Bakura managed to laugh through his soft pants of pleasure.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” A copper-toned hand slid round Bakura’s side and down to his erection, teasing it with a gentle brush of fingers. “Judging by your words, you’re hoping this isn’t just a one-time encounter.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“Do bears shit in the woods?”

“Shut up, Marik, and fuck me already.”

Marik did just that. He pressed his hips hard and fast, setting up a steady rhythm that had them both moaning and swearing and clinging to whatever fabric or flesh they could reach. It was rough and impersonal, no trace of affection in their actions, and that was exactly the way they wanted it. Sure, this was likely to happen again somewhere down the line, but what was the point of muddying the arrangement up with that lovey-dovey crap? Bakura wasn't much of a cuddler, so he hoped Marik wasn't, either, and there was no way they were kissing afterwards.

Nope, just pure fucking...that was all he wanted to get out of this.

The bed squeaked, the headboard rattled, and Bakura had to bury his face into a pillow to keep his cries from escalating too much. He knew they were risking a lot by having sex where anyone walking by his room could hear them, and being thrown in a cell for Egypt's ridiculous concept of immorality wasn't incredibly appealing. But Marik's cock felt amazing inside him, and it was hard to hold back. "D-Dammit, slow down," he muttered. Marik, not hearing his muffled complaint, continued his frantic thrusting, but Bakura reached back and grabbed his wrist, repeating his words. "Slow down. Do you want us to get caught out?"

Marik scowled down at him. "It isn't my fault you're a screamer. Stick your head back in the pillow."

"Fuck you. I haven't been with anybody in years. I'm...a bit sensitive, alright?"

A look of realisation dawned on Marik's elfin face. "Oh...do you want to change position, or - "

Bakura was already pulling away, just enough for him to brace himself against the headboard and assume a more upright position; he still faced away from Marik, but this way he could hold the headboard in place to stop it rattling against the wall, and reduce the intensity of Marik's thrusts.

The Egyptian giggled in approval at the sight before him, and coated himself with another round of lube before slipping behind Bakura and entering again. "Mmm...I haven't done it like this before..." he whispered in Bakura's ear as the paler man tossed his head back and closed his eyes in bliss. "Very...intimate, don't you think? I figured you wouldn't want that."

"Shut _up,"_ Bakura growled. Marik was right, of course, and he hadn't even thought about just how close together this position would bring them, but Bakura's head was floating in clouds and his body begging for more, more, more. With one hand he gripped the headboard, and the other he reached back to thread through Marik's hair as he leaned his head on his shoulder and moaned his appreciation. Bakura couldn't get enough of Marik’s warm breath washing over the sensitive skin of his neck, the hands wandering over his skin, the spicy scent of Marik’s cologne and the sound of their skin colliding, thrust after thrust.

When Marik reached down once more to grasp Bakura's erection, he came undone. The tension, the teasing, the overwhelming urge to have Marik fuck him since the moment their eyes met...it all spilled out in the spurts of hot release that flowed over Marik's fingers as Bakura came. Spent and sated, Bakura released Marik's hair and leaned forwards to rest his weight against the top of the headboard, letting Marik continue to his own completion. It didn't take much more, after seeing Bakura writhing in orgasm, for Marik to tumble over the edge as well, and as he slumped against Bakura's pale back, breathing heavily, Bakura couldn't help the smile, the true smile, that found its way somehow onto his usually scowling features. He felt _good._ Better than good. It was the best post-sex feeling he'd ever had.

But he'd be damned if the pretty Egyptian tease knew that.

"Get the fuck off me, Ishtar," Bakura muttered, jerking his body weight back, and Marik pulled away with a soft laugh. He slipped into the bathroom while Bakura leaned over the side of the bed and pulled a packet of wipes from his luggage, using a few to clean up the mess of their coupling. That done, he pulled his boxers on and began neatening his hair.

Marik emerged after a few minutes, grabbing his own boxers and slipping them on. "Is it alright if I stay?" he asked.

Bakura snorted, his fingers busy weaving and tucking as he re-braided his hair. "Didn't you say you were going to take your sweet time? That was barely five minutes. Should I be disappointed?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Marik replied with amusement, and Bakura was a little surprised that Marik had picked up on his manner of wit and sarcasm so quickly. He jerked his thumb to the bed, indicating that Marik could get in, then disappeared into the bathroom to relieve himself and finish cleaning up. When he came back, Marik was sat cross-legged in bed, tapping away on his phone. "Letting your sister know you're staying out?" Bakura smirked as he joined Marik on the bed.

"No, but I'm letting Kek know...if he even looks at my messages," Marik replied. "He's probably bombarding Ryou as we speak. You saw the way Kek was looking at him, right? He's fucking smitten."

"He's outta luck," Bakura shrugged. "Ryou's not let anyone near him for a long time now, romantically or otherwise. If Kek can get through to him, I'll be impressed."

"Why? Is he -?"

"Not my place to say."

"But Ryou's into guys, right?"

"Yup. Kek's a given, I take it."

"Poly, maybe pan at a push. I don't make a habit out of wanting to know what's between the legs of his lovers."

Marik put his phone away with a sigh. "It'd do Kek good to have a friend in Ryou at the very least. He's...not well, to put it mildly."

"Physically? He's built like a brick shithouse."

"No, mentally, but I..." Marik scratched the back of his head. "I guess it's not my place to say, either."

"We won't talk about it, then. Suits me fine." Bakura yanked back the blankets and slid beneath them. “If you want a clean shirt, by the way, I’ve a few in my suitcase.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Marik’s face, mixed with a little of what Bakura thought might be tenderness, but he just pointed to his luggage and turned away while Marik changed his shirt. “Thank you,” Marik murmured, smoothing down the Deathbat-emblazoned t-shirt he’d picked out. He was slimmer than Bakura despite their height difference, so it was big on him, but not overly so. “I didn’t even think…thank you, Bakura.”

“Whatever it is you’re hiding, I don’t need to know about it, but I know I wouldn’t want to sleep in a shirt I’d just fucked in,” Bakura shrugged. “Can I sleep now? I’m worn out and I get the feeling you’ll be waking me up in a few hours for round two.”

Marik giggled as he got back into bed. “You know me too well already, honey.”

“Don’t even think about cuddling up to me.” Bakura scooted away from Marik a little, putting a sizeable gap between them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I fucking mean it.”

“I know. No cuddling. I get it. But, um…” Marik twisted the blankets between his fingers, suddenly nervous. “Do you…mind if I kept the bedside lamp on? I’m not too…too good when it’s dark.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow, but he nodded, too tired to bother asking questions. Marik flashed him a grateful smile and hopped back out of bed to turn off the overhead light while Bakura flicked the bedside lamp on. Marik slid back under the covers and nestled his head against the pillows, facing Bakura, who was turned away from him. “Thanks for letting me stay,” he whispered.

“Whatever,” Bakura replied gruffly.

“We’re doing this again when we all go back home, right?”

“Absolutely. Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Content warning here for talk of mental illness, childhood trauma, blood, and gender dysphoria._ **

**_Ryou's outfit later on is inspired by[this](http://dmbakura.tumblr.com/image/170101546221) cute-ass artwork by [dmbakura](http://dmbakura.tumblr.com/)._ **

**_(June 6 2018 - edited to use more appropriate and sensitive language - thank you to DisposableVillain for the heads-up!)_ **

* * *

 Ryou’s job required that he wake up at what he liked to call “stupid o’clock” as he stumbled, half-asleep, through his apartment in search of clothes and caffeine, but as soon as he arrived on set, he was wide awake, perked up and ready to do what he did best – and that was makeup. He had been a makeup artist on a popular early morning breakfast show for the last two years, and he loved every minute of it. He himself would usually arrive with his hair still damp from showering and tied up carelessly into a messy bun, and having thrown on the first clean shirt he could find, but his work spoke for itself despite his lazy appearance in the mornings, and his models went on-air looking pristine and perfect, always the way he intended.

A perk of the job was that he was usually finished by 9 in the morning, which gave him plenty of time to go food shopping and then crash on the sofa to play video games for a few hours before curling up for a nap. Then he’d make a quick lunch, clean the apartment, and let the rest of the day pan out as it wished.

Ryou and Bakura had been back in Japan for two months now, and on this particular day, it was panning out that Ryou went to call on Kek. They had become fast friends ever since the day they met, and he came over so often now that Marik had given him a spare key to their apartment. Bakura wasn’t trusted with his own key yet, since he had a habit of making a colossal mess when he was there. He didn’t go over as often as Ryou did, only ever when Kek was out of the house. His relationship with Marik was strictly on a “friends with benefits” basis, but it seemed to suit them well enough, and Ryou was just happy that his brother was a little cheerier for it these days.

Kek most certainly was not cheery today. As soon as Ryou let himself into the apartment and turned to the door to close it, he heard the sound of glass smashing, followed by thudding footsteps and the slam of a door.

The sudden cacophony made Ryou jump and squeak in surprise, and Marik poked his head round the kitchen door, looking exasperated. “Hi, honey,” he said, a half-smile turning his lips, but Ryou knew straight away that it was fake. He removed his coat and hung it up before joining Marik in the kitchen. Glass littered the floor along with a puddle of water, but Marik waved away Ryou’s offer of help and began clearing it up himself. “What happened?” Ryou asked carefully, taking note of Marik’s sudden wariness.

Marik sighed as he tipped the broken glass out of the dustpan and into a box to transfer to the bin. He looked immaculate, made up beautifully with flawless skin and perfectly outlined eyes, but at that moment he looked tired and fed up. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “It’s nothing new.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, damn…” Marik scratched the back of his head, then turned away to flick the kettle on, knowing Ryou always appreciated a hot mug of tea. “Kek hasn’t told you?”

“About what?”

“About his…condition.”

Ryou shook his head, hair drifting like snowfall back and forth. “He hasn’t mentioned a thing.”

“I didn’t want to say, since it’s up to him whether or not he wants you to know, but you’ve come over in the middle of it all happening, so I’ll give it to you straight…” Marik leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms folded across his chest, seemingly searching for the right words to say. “Kek’s got PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder,” he said after a few moments. “Sometimes he has a flashback and then he reacts the way he just did, with rage and fear. He’s hiding at the moment, and believe me, nothing will make him come out. You just have to leave him. Going to him makes it so much worse.”

Ryou was shocked, to say the least. He had figured out from the amount of time he’d spent with Kek that he wasn’t always 100% himself, but he had no idea there was so much that could be affecting his new friend. Against his will, he felt tears pricking his eyes, and Marik handed him a mug of tea with a soft hushing sound and a tender brush of fingers to wipe the moisture away from his cheeks. “He’ll be fine in a few hours,” Marik murmured, in hopes of reassuring Ryou. “You’re welcome to stay here with me till he’s ready to come out of his room.”

Ryou sniffled, taking a gulp of tea. “Dare I ask what started all this?”

Ryou could see the hesitation in Marik’s eyes and opened his mouth to protest, to tell him it was okay, he didn’t need to say anything if he didn’t want to. Marik railroaded straight over him with determination. “Our mother died a few days after giving birth to us. She caught an infection and couldn’t be saved. Our father, he…he never recovered from it, and took it out on Kek and I. Kek suffered worse, because he was the one that always cried, so he was hit harder.”

Marik clutched at his own mug so hard his knuckles turned white, but his voice was calm and composed. “When we were ten, Father was in a drug-induced haze, and in his madness, he pinned Kek down and carved him raw, completely flaying his back. Isis and Rishid weren’t there, they were at school on a day that we weren’t, and I tried to rescue Kek, but I just got in the way, and I…got the same treatment. Not as bad, but still bad enough to scar for life.” Marik rolled his shoulder with a frown, and Ryou imagined layers of scar tissue marring his copper skin. “Kek couldn’t stand to see me hurt, and he snapped. He was always bigger than me, and stronger, and he fought with Father until he managed to take the knife from him, and in the struggle, he cut Father’s throat...he bled to death.”

All that was racing through Ryou’s head was _he was ten, he was ten, he was just protecting his brother, it was self-defence…oh goodness, Kek…I’m so sorry…I didn’t know…_

He couldn’t speak, just looked at Marik with wide eyes, urging him to go on. “I think I screamed, but it’s all a bit hazy after that. I was in agony, so god knows how Kek must have felt, but it was like he was on adrenaline or something. He cleaned up, then phoned the police and told them, _so fucking calmly,_ that there was a body in our house. When they came, he told them everything from start to finish, and then we were carted off to hospital to have our wounds treated. Kek needed so much surgery and so many skin grafts that he looked like the dust jacket of the Oghma Infinium, but I wasn’t as bad; I just needed a lot of stitches.”

Ryou reached out and took Marik’s hand, needing, _needing,_ that reassurance to be there, to let him know he was listening and was there for him.

“This is where I stop remembering a lot of things. I think I blanked it out to protect myself from breaking down, but Kek, he…he wasn’t the same. However you looked at it, he’d still killed someone, so it had to go to trial, but he wasn’t deemed capable of being there himself. His mind completely shut down and he went catatonic, so he had to go to a psychiatric hospital for treatment. In the end he wasn’t charged, it was justifiable homicide, but Kek spent four years in that hospital, and when he came out, I barely recognised him as my brother. He was someone else entirely…and sometimes I’d see little glimpses of Kek resurfacing, but then it would get taken over again by this other personality his mind had made to protect him from the trauma.” Marik ran a manicured hand over his face, sighing. “I’m sorry, I’ve said too much. I didn’t mean to frighten you away from Kek. But you spend a lot of time with him…you deserved to know, in case you were ever in danger.”

He had certainly given Ryou a lot to think about, at any rate. But he wasn’t frightened. Intrigued, maybe, and a little wary, but not frightened. Smiling, he shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “That happened in the past. That doesn’t make what happened any easier, I understand…but I’m not going to run away from him, or you. Have you told Touzo about any of this?”

“Him?” Marik snorted. “Like hell. You know he doesn’t give a shit about us getting to know each other.”

“Surely he’s seen your scars by now?”

“Nope. Always covered.”

That made Ryou pause a moment and frown. Marik and Bakura had been seeing each other fairly constantly ever since meeting in Luxor, but Bakura had been rather mute as to what he viewed their relationship as. Marik’s brusque statement confirmed his suspicions; they were moving in a direction neither of them were entirely comfortable with accepting. _That,_ however, would be something Bakura made sure to keep Ryou out of, so he said no more, and drained his tea. “Will you let me try with Kek?” he asked. “I’ll get out of there if I sense I’m at risk.”

“It’s not a good idea – ”

“Please, Marik. I can’t just sit by and do nothing, knowing he’s hurting so close to me.”

Marik could see that Ryou was determined, and there was little point in arguing with him. “…I’ll stay by the door. If I see anything amiss, I’m dragging you out, okay? I won’t be responsible for him harming you if he doesn’t recognise you.”

“Of course.”

Marik and Ryou put their mugs in the sink, then made their way to Kek’s bedroom. The door was closed, and it was silent and dark inside when Ryou carefully pushed open the door. A quivering lump under the bedclothes told him where Kek was hiding away. "Kek?" Ryou called out gently, but loud enough that he hoped he'd be heard. "Kek, it's Ryou. I'm coming into your room now, okay? I'm not going to do anything...I just want to say hi."

He stepped into the room, nodding to Marik as he did so. Kek didn't move, much less give any indication that he knew Ryou was near. As Marik watched carefully, Ryou knelt beside the bed and dropped his voice a little. "Kek, I'm going to move the blankets now, okay? Please don't be alarmed. I won't hurt you."

"Ryou - " Marik gasped, shaking his head.

"It's okay, Marik." Ryou grasped a corner of the blanket and slowly lifted it away, revealing Kek underneath. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest, head bowed, fingers digging so hard into his forearms that beads of blood trickled down his skin. Ryou suppressed a gasp at the vulnerability in his friend's aura. He had never seen Kek look so lost and afraid, and Marik must have thought Kek would lash out if his hiding place were to be removed from him, but he simply sat and stared at Ryou with wide, watery eyes, his whole body shaking and feverishly hot, the heat radiating off him so violently Ryou could feel it without touching him.

Ryou carefully extended a hand to Kek, hovering it just over his cheek. "I'm going to touch your face, Kek. I'll be gentle, I promise. Nothing is going to hurt you here. You're safe with me."

He touched his fingers over Kek's skin, just a fleeting brush, and when there was no negative reaction, he rested his palm fully on Kek's cheek.  To his relief, and Marik's shock, Kek's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned his head ever so slightly into the touch. "There," Ryou whispered, smiling warmly, "see, that feels good, doesn't it? That's my promise to you that I'm here for you, Kek."

Marik could hardly believe his eyes. "How are you doing that?" he exclaimed. His voice was loud in his surprise, and Kek recoiled, uttering a terrified whimper and burying his head in his knees, crushing Ryou's hand in the process. "Fuck, I'm sorry," Marik groaned.

"It's okay," Ryou whispered, wincing at the discomfort in his fingers. "He just needs quiet, and calm, and gentle grounding. I bet you react to his outbursts with anger and frustration, don't you?" Marik nodded, looking guilty. "It’s understandable. You've dealt with it for so long, with no results, that you've probably given up on trying.”

Ryou’s chocolate-hued eyes gazed down at Kek’s trembling form, wishing, just wishing, that he could make all his suffering go away. “I might not be able to get through. It's not always as simple as being kind and patient. He might still lash out at me despite what you've just seen him react to. I'm not going to make him better, but maybe I can help ease his pain for a little while."

"Dammit, you're incredible," Marik laughed nervously. "I think...I think you're okay to be alone with him. I'll be in my room if you need me, alright? Just shout and I'll come."

"Thank you."

Marik retreated, closing the door quietly, leaving Ryou with Kek. Ryou's hand was still uncomfortably wedged between Kek's knee and cheek, but he just about managed to move his fingers a little, and at that, Kek raised his head, his eyes darting about warily until they settled on Ryou. "It's only me," Ryou murmured, stroking Kek's cheek. "Can you talk to me, Kek?"

Kek shook his head. Okay, so he became non-verbal during a breakdown. That was fine. Ryou could still work with him. He eased onto the bed and raised his other hand, cupping both Kek's cheeks now and rubbing the pads of his thumbs over the heated skin. "Show me what to do," he whispered. "Can I do anything to help you?"

It took Kek a few moments to register his friend's speech, but once he understood, he released his grip on his arms and grasped Ryou's wrist, directing it upwards to his hair. Ryou gave a little smile; Kek wanted to be petted. The big, muscled brute who looked as though he could knock someone out with a single look was asking for his hair to be touched. An affectionate flutter quickened Ryou's heartbeat as he nodded and slid behind Kek, lifting both his hands to stroke his fingertips gently down Kek's scalp. "Like this?"

Kek nodded slowly, and when Ryou snuck a peek round at his face, he saw Kek's deep purple eyes had closed, and he looked to be relaxing a little. He continued running his hands through the dense spikes of Kek's hair, hanging loose around his head in contrast to his usual style, brushing it back from his shoulders and letting himself be lost in the therapeutic actions.

As Ryou worked, he talked. Anything he could think of that might bring Kek back into the world. He talked about the Dungeons and Dragons campaign he had been writing to play with his friends from school, the funny conversations they'd had over the game table, mishaps at work, the fights he'd gotten into with Bakura as a teenager when he started stealing the elder brother's clothes. Kek gave no indication that he was listening, but it felt good to break the silence and just let his mind free.

Ryou knew he was getting somewhere when a soft, content sigh left Kek's mouth, and he beamed at the realisation that Kek's mind was returning. "Hey, you," Ryou said quietly, still stroking Kek's hair. "Are you back with us?"

"...Yeah. Hi, Ryou." Kek's voice was gravelly and rough with emotion. He reached behind and patted Ryou's wrist as an indication to stop stroking, then turned around stiffly. He looked embarrassed, ashamed, and Ryou had an overwhelming urge to throw his arms round his friend and hold him close. "Thanks for bringing me back," Kek murmured, the smallest hint of a smile making its way onto his face. "I'd like some time alone now, if that’s okay. I know you were meant to come over today, but...I'll come by your place later, maybe?"

Ryou nodded, leaning in and planting a kiss on Kek's cheek, who uttered a quiet giggle and touched his cheek, blushing. "I'll leave you be. Takeout and beer tonight?"

"Something stronger."

"I have rum?"

"Perfect. See you tonight, snowflake."

Now it was Ryou who blushed. "See you later, Kek."

Marik was waiting just outside his own bedroom when Ryou emerged, and he could tell by the look on the Egyptian's face that he had been listening in. _"Alhamdulillah_ , you're amazing, honey," Marik gushed, throwing his arms around Ryou in an appreciative embrace. Ryou returned the hug with enthusiasm, smiling broadly. Marik's love for dishing out affection was always well received by Ryou, since Bakura never permitted it on himself. "I've never known him to be so responsive during an outburst before. You've done what I never could."

“Oh, stop it,” Ryou blushed. “You’re making me sound like a Mary Sue, all perfect and stuff.”

“Sorry,” Marik laughed. “So, will Kek be staying the night at your place?”

“If he wants to. He’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

“No doubt, if he’s with you. But you’ll call me if anything happens, won’t you?”

“Of course I will.”

* * *

Bakura dropped by Ryou's apartment in the early evening, as it was on his way home from work. When he let himself in, he found Ryou curled up on the sofa as he retouched his makeup. "Hi, Tou!" Ryou trilled. "Busy day?"

"No more than usual," Bakura replied, tossing his jacket aside carelessly and flopping down on the sofa beside his brother. "What are you up to tonight? Mai, Otogi and Kajiki are all either out of town or busy, so I've nothing to do."

"Oh, Kek's coming over in a few hours."

Bakura chuckled. "That explains the makeup."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, of course." Bakura stuck his tongue out playfully. "So I guess that means Marik will be around..."

"I guess so. Hey, Tou..." Ryou put his foundation sponge down and turned to face Bakura, a concerned look creeping onto his face. "Have you and Marik had a fight? He seemed a little put out when I went over today."

"No," Bakura replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "He's such a fucking drama queen. What's he whining about now?"

"Nothing," Ryou scowled. "It just felt like something wasn't right, that's all."

"What's there to go wrong? Quit acting like he's my boyfriend!"

"You need to talk to him properly, Touzo. I think he's getting a little weary of just being your booty call."

Bakura stood from the sofa with an annoyed growl and stalked off into the kitchen. Ryou heard the kettle starting to heat up, and the clatter of ceramic against ceramic, and then Bakura was bringing two cups of tea through a few minutes later. "You're too nosey," Bakura snapped, thrusting a cup towards Ryou. "I've told you before, this shit is nothing to do with you. Let me fight my own battles."

Ryou had seen this in Bakura many times over the years. His brother was an attractive man, to be sure, and had had his fair share of admirers ever since he was in his teens, but he'd never wanted a romantic relationship with anyone, choosing to distance himself as soon as the signs that they were growing closer started to show. It wouldn't be long until he started pushing Marik away, too.

"While we're on the subject..." Bakura mused, "what's going on with you and Kek? And don't give me any of that platonic bullshit; you clearly fancy the pants off each other."

Ryou sighed, turning away to continue applying his makeup. "It's too soon."

"You've not told him?"

"Not yet."

"Why the fuck are you still hiding? It's been six years since you came out."

"I..." Ryou grimaced. "I don't know."

"You think you'll scare him away?"

"I guess so. Things are just so lovely the way they are right now, and I don't want to risk spoiling it."

"Sooner or later he's going to find out. Are you ashamed?"

"No, never."

"Then you need to tell him, little bro. If there's any chance that what you two have is going to turn into something more, you've got to be fucking honest with him." Bakura drained his tea and stood, ruffling Ryou's hair. "Just...grow a pair and get it over and done with, alright?"

"Easy for you to say," Ryou laughed weakly. "At least you've _got_ a pair."

"One step at a time, kid. One step at a time." Bakura strolled into the kitchen, clearly in a better mood now the attention had been taken away from him. He tossed his cup in the sink and reappeared to grab his jacket. "I'm heading home. Just think about what I said, okay?"

"Okay, I will," Ryou nodded. "Love you, Tou."

Bakura winked and shot a finger gun in response. "I love you too, squirt. Catch ya later."

As Bakura left, Ryou finished off his makeup and tidied away the various bottles, ampoules and brushes scattered around his feet. He finished his drink, then slipped into his bedroom to change into something a little more presentable.

He couldn't help but pause before his mirror, frowning at his reflection as he stripped down to his boxers. The body he saw was the body he had wanted, but the scars across his chest and hips were always there as a stark reminder of what he had gone through to achieve it.

Ryou had been assigned female at birth, and his upbringing was happy for the most part. He enjoyed things that were stereotypically “girly” and “boyish,” never being fussy about what he played with, and loved wearing dresses and skirts as much as he also loved rolling in the mud and coming home with twigs in his hair and scrapes on his knees. It wasn’t until puberty that the dysphoria started. Something just didn’t _feel_ right from the inside out. When his breasts had begun to grow, they immediately felt alien, unwanted, and his first period almost induced a panic attack as Ryou refused to accept such a drastic change to his body. As far as Ryou’s brain had been concerned, none of it should have been happening, and for the first time, Ryou’s life was miserable. He hated himself, he hated what he was becoming, he hated having to hide his struggle from his family and friends.

It was Bakura that was there for him, always. Their mother had died when they were still very small, and their father chose to bury himself in his work, so Bakura was the one constant person in Ryou’s life, and the one that pointed Ryou towards articles on the internet about being transgender, and gender dysphoria. When asked why, Bakura just said he’d always known Ryou was unsure of who he was or wanted to be. He drew the line at Ryou stealing his clothes, though.

After that, Ryou had come to the decision that he didn’t see himself, or want others to see him, as female. And from then on, he had lived as male. He cut his hair, bound his breasts down, and settled on a new name that he liked – Ryou, of course. The hormone replacement therapy began at sixteen, and his birthday present to himself at eighteen was a trip to Thailand to undergo a bilateral mastectomy. A year later, he flew out again for a radical hysterectomy.

And now, aged twenty-one, he was almost satisfied with his body…almost. He had grown his hair out again, having regretted cutting it as a teenager, and the testosterone injections had given him sharper features, firmer muscles, a smattering of silvery hair along his jaw on the rare times he didn’t shave. He still had a feminine look about him, but he always knew that would be unavoidable; hell, even Bakura had a similar look sometimes if he ever dropped his usual scowl.

In the eyes of Japanese law, Ryou was now officially male, having been able to apply to have his sex changed on all official documents. He thought it a little extreme that a prerequisite for application was that he be sterilised, and he felt sorry for the trans men and women for whom that wasn’t an option, or simply felt uncomfortable with removing their reproductive parts, or couldn’t afford the surgery. Ryou counted himself fortunate that his mother had left both her children a sizeable inheritance, and that Thailand was more affordable than he had imagined. Japan's medical professionals knew next to nothing about reassignment surgery, and to be honest, he was grateful for the holiday abroad as well.

Ryou realised he'd been staring at himself in the mirror for several minutes now. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and threw on a baggy, black-and-white jumper, laddered black tights, and skimpy shorts. The cuffed, deep blue denim barely covered his behind, but he loved them. "Old habits die hard," he muttered to himself as he fluffed up his hair. "No wonder Kek looks at me like he can't figure out what I am."

Was androgyny okay? After everything he had been through? It almost felt like a betrayal to himself, still enjoying pampering himself and dressing up in "girly" clothes. Boys didn't do that...right? But Marik seemed to do all the same things, and he saw himself as male through and through. "Gaaah," Ryou groaned, smacking his forehead in frustration. "This is hopeless."

But when Kek arrived in the evening, he didn't bat an eyelid at Ryou's appearance, opting instead for a raised eyebrow and a teasing wolf-whistle. "Stop that," Ryou laughed as he ushered Kek over the threshold. "Did you get here okay?"

"Yeah," Kek replied, shrugging off his jacket. "No decent parking spaces around, though. I've left the car on the next street. It'll be okay there, won't it?"

"Absolutely. Tou parks there all the time and there's never been any trouble." Ryou took Kek's jacket and hung it up, smiling at his friend. "You look better. How do you feel?"

Kek ran a hand through his hair. "I'm alright," he shrugged. "Still pissed off that you saw me like that."

"Oh, hush, don't be silly. Now get your ass into the kitchen and pick some food to order, there are a few menus on the table."

Kek's eyes lit up at the prospect of food, and sidestepped Ryou to head towards the kitchen. He decided on pizza, so Ryou got the same, and they curled up on the sofa together to play _Minecraft_ while they waited for the delivery. "Tonight's your cheat night, huh?" Ryou grinned.

"You got it," Kek chuckled, "and thank fuck I’m spending it here; honestly, Malik is a fucking nightmare to order takeout with. I swear he just likes to make life difficult for himself."

"That would explain why he shacks up with my pain-in-the-ass of a brother."

"I daresay that might be even stupider than Malik's fancy-pants vegan-ness."

"Well, at least it's easy enough to be vegetarian here, right?"

"Yeah, I've never had any trouble with it – oh, fuck! Creeper! Creeper!” Kek jumped in shock and began frantically mashing buttons. “Agh! Where’s my sword gone?!”

“Run! I’ve got this!” Ryou laughed.

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh! Hang on!” Kek managed to find his sword, attacked the Creeper, and retreated quickly before it could explode and kill him. “Phew, that was a close one. Now, um…what were we talking about?”

"Vegetables and stuff…you know, the usual stuff two dudes converse about over games.” Ryou flashed an amused smile up at his friend. “Excuse my ignorance, Kek, but where does your protein come from?"

"Workout shakes, and I pretty much eat my body weight in chickpeas and quinoa daily," Kek winked. "All the guys down the gym are on chicken and rice three times a day, and then there's me, the Arab whackjob with fucking salads and falafel. I look a dork, but who cares?"

Ryou patted Kek's bulging bicep appreciatively. "And you're ripped as hell, so it's working for you."

“Can’t deny that.” Kek put his controller down and flexed his arm, laughing as Ryou’s cheeks flushed red in response. “I bet I could lift you right up with just this arm if you hung on tightly enough.”

“Oh, goodness!” Ryou spluttered, knowing his cheeks were burning scarlet. Kek laughed harder, wrapping his arm round Ryou’s shoulders and pulling him in close while picking up his controller and continuing to play. Grateful to be able to hide his flushed face, Ryou nestled into Kek’s firm chest and sighed happily.

Platonic bullshit, Bakura called it? No, this was absolutely perfect. And that was how they stayed until their food arrived, only breaking away from each other so Ryou could answer the door and Kek could make up drinks. They settled back onto the sofa and Ryou put one of his many horror movies on, laughing with Kek at the terrible special effects and discussing their favourite parts of the genre itself.

The alcohol steadily wore their inhibitions down, until Ryou finally felt brave enough to broach the subject of what had occurred earlier on in the day. Kek was on his fourth rum and coke by now, and had a stupidly happy grin on his face as he leaned against Ryou and draped his arms around him, nuzzling the side of his neck. “Hey now, no more booze for you,” Ryou giggled, swatting at him feebly. “Get up, Kek. I think we need to talk now, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Kek raised his head, frowning. “I’m not drunk. You’re just comfortable.” Nevertheless, he sat up straight and swivelled round on the sofa, so he could cross his legs and face Ryou directly. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering…can we discuss what happened today? If you feel up to it, that is.”

“Ah.” Kek grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess so. Must’ve been hard for you to take in. How much did Malik tell you?”

“Um…everything.”

“Including the part where I killed our dad?”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t turn tail and run at that.”

Ryou shook his head firmly. “You were a kid, and you were being abused. I can’t even imagine the scars you carry, physically and mentally.” He reached out and took Kek’s hands in his own, squeezing them gently. They were warm and rough with callouses from the time he spent in the gym, a stark contrast to Ryou’s soft, smooth palms. “Yes, you killed someone. There’s no sugar-coating that. But you protected your brother, and you made your lives safer. I’m not one to wish death on anybody, but maybe, just maybe…your father deserved what he got. There is never any excuse to lay a finger on a child.”

“Ryou…” Kek whispered, purple eyes filling with tears. “Nobody’s ever been able to bring me back from a meltdown before…nobody but you. Do you have any idea how safe I feel when I’m with you?” Shuddering, he blinked his tears back. “That’s why…that’s why I’ve not asked if we can go any further. God, I want to, and I want you to want to as well…but I can’t handle the risk of it all falling apart. I’ve never had a relationship, only stupid, self-destructive, one-night stands where I didn’t care who the fuck they were, or what could have happened to me. I don’t know what I’d even have to do, if I asked you to be mine…I don’t…I don’t…”

“Hush, Kek…it’s okay.” Ryou pulled Kek into a gentle embrace, stroking his hair. “I understand, and I feel the same way. What we have is great, isn’t it? There’s no point in messing all that up. I’m glad, and flattered, that I make you feel safe. I want to be here for you, as you’re here for me…because it’s time I admitted something to you.”

He pulled back and fiddled with his hair, suddenly feeling his words catch in his chest and freeze like ice. Kek gazed at him patiently. “Kek, I…” Ryou said quietly, “I’m a trans man. I was born with a female body, but I’ve lived as a male since I was fifteen years old. I was too scared to tell you, in case you were freaked out, but I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, so you deserved to know…and after everything that’s happened today, it would have been unfair of me to keep something this big from you.”

Ryou dropped his hair before he could tangle it half to death, grasping a stray thread on his shorts instead and tugging. “I feel the same way as you…we’re closer than friends, but not as close as lovers. I’d love for it to be more, but as it stands right now, my body just isn’t something I’m comfortable with anybody seeing. It’s not…complete yet. Till I can decide what’s best, I’m not ready for a relationship. So to know that you feel the same way is comforting, you know? I know I won’t be going through this alone…well, if you’re still willing to be my friend, that is.”

Kek was quiet for a few moments, his brow furrowed in thought. Ryou’s heart pounded frantically against his ribs, waiting for his response, but to Ryou’s delight, Kek nodded, smiling knowingly. “I figured as much,” he said. “I gotta admit, I was confused, and I did think you were a girl when we first met  – I am so fucking sorry, by the way – but it became more obvious the more time we spent together that that wasn’t the case. It makes no difference to me, Ryou, or to our friendship. Why should it? You’re just you. And I bet you’ve been through a lot to get to where you are now. If I freaked out about it, I would just be undoing all that hard work, and I couldn’t live with myself if that were the case.”

Ryou could have kissed Kek at that moment, such was his gratitude. He settled instead for flinging himself into Kek’s strong, muscled arms and cuddling in close. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice an emotional whisper. “You’re so amazing. Thank you so much.”

Kek kissed the top of Ryou’s head and drew him closer, soaking in his body heat. “Maybe one day…one day, we’ll be at ease with ourselves, and we can take that next step. But for now…I just want to enjoy these moments as they are.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Have some Thiefshipping smut. You're welcome. ;)_ **

* * *

Bakura knew he had fucked up somehow, but he was forcing himself not to care as he slouched at his work desk, fingers flying over his keyboard with all the skill of a practiced hacker. He was, in fact, a rather practiced hacker, but he didn't tend to freely advertise that.

How had Bakura fucked up, exactly?

Marik hadn't called him, or answered his messages, for at least a week now, and that wasn't like him at all. Bakura had even had a sneak peek at his social media profiles to check on him, and he had been posting as frequently as ever, so he wasn’t incapacitated, inactive, or dead. What, then, could the issue be?

Maybe he'd been too rough the last time he topped? Or he hadn't pandered enough to Marik’s stupid diva ways? Or - ?

"Fucking quit it," Bakura growled to himself, angrily slamming on the "Enter" key to fire off what was likely to be the most passive aggressive reply to an email he'd ever sent in his time at KaibaCorp. Marik could go to hell right now as far as he was concerned.

Stretching his cramped muscles, Bakura glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen, seeing it was almost time for him to head off. Maybe he could grab some of his colleagues and drag them down to the pub, if their boss wasn't kicking their ass to get them to do overtime. Seto Kaiba was a royal pain in the neck, but he knew how to make a company run smoothly, Bakura would give him that.

"Otogi!" Bakura yelled across the room, and a dark mop of hair popped round the corner a moment later, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Pub run?"

Ryuji Otogi, Bakura’s closest work colleague and one of the few people he could tolerate for more than five seconds at a time, shook his head sadly. "Sorry, Kura. We're all gonna be here a long time tonight. Have you tried Yugi?"

"Ha! Fuck no."

"Hey, I heard that!" Yugi poked Bakura in the back of the head, having snuck up on him. Bakura was short, but Yugi Mutou was tiny, only standing at five feet tall, and Bakura took great pleasure in ribbing him for it constantly, or as frequently as he felt comfortable, given that Yugi was Seto's assistant CEO. He was giving Bakura his best affronted look, which was mostly just a pouty lip while batting his eyelashes. "If you're going to be bored tonight, Atem's written a few campaign," Yugi said, "and Mai will be there too. It's been ages since you last came over, Bakura. How about it?"

That sounded agreeable enough to Bakura. Mai Kujaku was his oldest friend, and they were “thick as thieves,” as Ryou liked to say. Atem Khanen, the dark-skinned Egyptian whom Bakura had met at university, was Yugi's husband, and he and Bakura always fought over the stupidest things, but damn, he could write a good D&D campaign. So Bakura just shrugged as he grabbed his jacket and slung it on. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "What time?"

"No time like the present!" Yugi said brightly. "Come downstairs with me and I'll give you a ride, unless you need to stop off at home first?"

"Nah. Let's go, then." Bakura grabbed Yugi's shoulders and shoved him bodily towards the elevator, eager to begin the process of distracting himself from thoughts of Marik.

When they reached Yugi’s car, he hopped in the passenger seat and immediately began fiddling with the radio, finding the loudest, harshest rock music he could. “God, you’re worse than Atem,” Yugi laughed as they began their journey. “He never lets me have a say on the music in the car.”

“Sucks to be you,” Bakura grinned, sitting back and resting an ankle on the opposite knee, grateful to be able to sit down in a more comfortable seat than his rickety office chair. “How’s the dreadlocked dork these days, anyway? Been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“He’s great,” Yugi smiled. “He’s taking a break from competitive play for a while, you know, just to recharge his batteries. It’s nice to have someone at home all the time when I’m used to the place being empty.”

“I just asked how he was, Yugi, not for your fucking life story.”

Yugi just laughed, sticking his middle finger up at Bakura as he flicked his indicator on to turn right. “Move your leg, Bakura. You’re blocking the gearstick.”

Yugi didn’t live far from KaibaCorp HQ, and soon he was pulling into the driveway of a large house that spoke serious volumes about the wealth of its occupants. Yugi and Atem were modest enough people, never bragging or acting selfish with their earnings, but it didn’t take much to see that they liked the finer things in life. Yugi’s game collection alone was testament to that.

Mai’s car was already in the drive, the engine still warm when Bakura touched the bonnet, so he knew she must have arrived very recently. They found her conversing cheerfully with Atem in the kitchen over glasses of wine.

Bakura owed Mai everything. She was personally responsible for dragging him out of the seedy life of sex, crime, and violence he used to be partial to as a teenager, and she herself was a tough young woman, her cascade of blonde curls and soft eyes belying her strong side. Nobody messed with Bakura back in the day, but if they were together, it was Mai that people used to shrink back at the sight of.

Mai was dressed in a tight purple vest and miniskirt, and Bakura never failed to be amused by the fact that no matter what she wore, her ample bosom always seemed to be on the risk of spilling out whenever she leaned forward. “Hey there, sugar tits,” he grinned, leaning against the doorway and shooting a finger gun in her direction. “I’m ready to DM the living shit out of you.”

Mai blew him a kiss, laughing merrily. “Sorry, darling. Atem’s our trusty DM tonight.”

“Oh, you’ve come to play?” Atem asked, his voice warm, rich, and tinged with exotic accents. Compared to Yugi’s smart and tailored appearance, Atem was somewhat lazier, opting for loose shirts and jeans, and tying his mass of black and magenta dreadlocks in a ponytail, letting a few sprays of blonde hang in front of his eyes. “I think you’ll like what I’ve got planned for this campaign, Bakura. How have you been?”

“Here and there,” Bakura shrugged, watching as Yugi breezed in and kissed Atem on the cheek before sticking his head in the cupboards, searching for junk food. Bakura suppressed the urge to grit his teeth, wondering if everything was going to remind him of Marik today – and heck, they’d never even kissed in the six months they’d been fucking, so what was the big deal with this? It wasn’t like he wanted it himself. Even so, there was something about the way Yugi beamed at Atem, as he emerged with an armful of potato crisps and chocolates, that made Bakura’s chest ache horribly.

Mai drained her glass of wine and hopped to her feet. “Well, I’m ready to get some gaming in!” she said. “Shall we?”

“By all means,” Atem nodded, then glanced at Yugi.  _“Aibou?_ Do you really need all that? Your teeth are going to fall out at the rate you get through those sweets.”

Yugi rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “You’re my husband,  _anata_ , not my mother.” He marched off to the games room with his haul, Mai and Bakura arm-in-arm, close behind him.

In the games room, Mai settled down beside Bakura while Yugi and Atem set up the game board and character sheets. “You seem down,” Mai said quietly, patting Bakura’s head. “Need to talk?”

Bakura lightly slapped Mai’s hand away. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Kura, darling, I’ve known you since we were children. I can read you like a book, and I can see that something is wrong. Now, you’re either going to tell me, or I’m going to force it out of you with copious amounts of wine. Don’t test me, you know I can, and I will.”

There really was no getting around Mai once she started poking and prodding at you. She meant well, but Bakura hated it, hated that she was one of the few that could bring out his emotions. Finally, he groaned, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I’m going soft,” he sighed.

“How so?” Mai stroked Bakura’s hair back from his face. “You’re always hard as stone.”

Bakura fiddled in his pocket and located his phone, thrusting it towards Mai. “Look at my search history. Instagram.”

“Instagram?” Mai raised her eyebrows as she unlocked the screen and brought up the browser. “You’ve never had a social media profile in your life. Who are you stalking – ? Ohhh…isn’t he pretty…hmmm…”

It was Marik’s profile, and the last picture he had posted was several hours ago. It was one of his usual selfies, but the tags underneath, interwoven with Japanese, English and Arabic, clearly said “date night.” Bakura had seen it when he checked at work, and that was when his sour mood had started. “I take it this date isn’t you,” Mai said, handing back the phone. “Is that the problem? You’re jealous?”

Bakura snorted as he tucked his phone away. “Of that prissy son of a bitch? Fuck, no.”

“Is this the guy you’ve been seeing for a while?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Have you done something to piss him off?”

“I piss everyone off.”

Mai smacked Bakura’s arm. “I swear to god, you had better settle down with someone soon without shoving them away, or I will seduce you until you turn straight.”

“Ha! Good luck with that.”

“Everything okay?” Atem called from across the room.

“Just fucking dandy,” Bakura shot back. “Are we ready?”

“Yep, all set! Come over and choose your character. All the sheets are here.” Atem pointed to a small stack of papers to Yugi’s left. “Of course, I’m DM, so I’ll sit here with the laptop. This campaign will be relatively short, just so I can test it out, but if all goes well, I’ll write a continuation of it.”

Bakura didn’t care how long it lasted. He just wanted the distraction while it was there.

The campaign Atem had written was set in Ancient Egypt, drawing on the heritage he had from his father’s side of the family. With much tracing back, he’d found that he was the descendent of some Pharaoh Bakura could never remember the name of. Nevertheless, the campaign was very interesting. Bakura had chosen the Bandit King character, Mai the Assassin, and Yugi the Spellweaver, who also doubled as a Bard. The aim of the story was to plunder a set of precious items from the royal family, that would in turn be placed in a magical altar, and bring peace to the tortured souls of the Bandit King’s deceased people. Atem said he’d read a riveting story long ago, and had adapted it a little to work as a D&D campaign, since the original Bandit King had operated alone. As usual, Atem had worked his magic, capturing his companions in the world he had created, and Yugi ensured hilarity all round as he used his Bard’s charisma to seduce everything he came across, including – making Bakura choke on his chocolate in the process – the Pharaoh’s horse.

They managed to battle through in a matter of hours, and then after the usual arguments and bandying of insults with Atem, Mai drove Bakura home. He almost invited her in, just so he wouldn’t feel so alone, but stubbornness got the better of him and he waved his goodbye as she drove away, before unlocking the door and stepping inside. The apartment was dark, messy, looking every inch like Bakura didn’t give a flying fuck, and that was true. He didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to, not anymore.

It was too much.

They had to talk.

He found himself pulling his phone out and calling Marik before he even fully registered what he was doing.

…

…

…

Was he going to pick up…?

…

…

“Fuck, Marik…don’t be a prick…”

…

…

“…Bakura? What’s up?”

Bakura could have sighed with joy at hearing Marik’s smooth, dulcet tones once more. “What the fuck?!” he barked instead. “Radio silence for over a week, you asshole! You wanna tell me what the fuck’s going on with you?”

“I wasn’t under the impression that I owed you an explanation, Bakura.”

“Now you listen here – ”

“No,  _you_ listen here,” Marik said firmly. “I’m tired of all this, okay? I don’t want to be your fuck-buddy anymore. That’s all there is to it. This? Me and you? It’s done. It hurts too much and I can’t stand it. Just let me get on with my life, alright? And you get on with yours. All we’re doing is holding each other back.”

Marik’s words stung like a sharp slap to the face, much worse than Bakura could ever recall feeling in the past, or ever. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths to keep from either exploding in rage or bursting into tears. “I need to talk to you,” he said softly. “Will you at least come and discuss this face to face? I’m going crazy over here.”

“Why?”

Bakura felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “I guess I’m hurting, too. Go fucking figure, eh? So, can we talk about this?”

Marik sighed loudly. “You are a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I have been known to be difficult.”

“…Right, give me an hour, and I’ll come over.”

“You’re not still on your date?”

“Just…shut up. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

 By the time Marik arrived, Bakura had hastily tidied up, which mostly involved throwing all the mess under the sofa and his bed, and was running around with a spray bottle of disinfectant and a cloth when his sort-of lover made himself announced by letting himself in. “Civilised people knock, asshole,” Bakura muttered as he polished the TV.

Marik sniffed the air, frowning. “Yeah, and civilised people also keep their fucking front doors locked,” he said, with a hint of amusement. “What are you spraying? It smells amazing.”

“Cinnamon Zoflora. Ryou’s obsessed with it and he’s forever bringing his surplus stash over.” Bakura decided to leave out the fact that the scent also reminded him of Marik, instead throwing the cloth aside and dropping the bottle unceremoniously to the floor. “Well, don’t just stand there, sit down or something, you’re making me nervous.”

“Ha!” Marik let out a harsh laugh. “You, nervous?”

Bakura scowled heavily at Marik, trying not to focus on the fact that his belly was tying itself in knots. Marik shrugged and flopped down on the sofa, crossing his ankles and leaning back, already relaxed. How was he this laid-back when Bakura felt like he was about to pass out? And why the fuck did he feel like that, anyway? Bakura despised being out of control of his own emotions. Why did Marik stir up such bullshit around him?

“Bakura?”

Bakura realised he’d been stood rooted to the spot, lost in thought. He shook his head, silver hair bouncing, and perched on the opposite end of the sofa, careful to leave a decent sized gap between them. Marik gazed at the ceiling firmly, his nose scrunched up ever so slightly as if in thought. His face had been scrubbed clean of his usual makeup, and he looked much younger and softer without the elegant flicks of kohl outlining his eyes, the foundation smoothing out his complexion. For the first time, Bakura found himself noticing blemishes and imperfections dotting Marik’s skin; a scar here, a pimple there, a birthmark on his brow.

He was more beautiful than Bakura had ever seen him before.

“…Oh, fuck, I really am going soft.”

“Huh?” Marik turned his head, raising an eyebrow, and Bakura mentally slapped himself for muttering his thoughts out loud.

“Nothing.”

“You called me over to talk, moron. If you’re just going to sit there and stare at me, I might as well go home.”

“N-No, I – ” Bakura shook his head frantically. “Just…let me gather my thoughts a moment.”

That was going to prove an impossible task. His thoughts were all over the place. Even his ability to throw some sardonic snark Marik’s way had crumbled the minute Marik sat down. 

He wanted to call Marik an idiot…he wanted to hope his date had stood him up…he wanted to tell him that he hated him…

But what ended up coming out of his mouth was, “Marik, I love you.”

Marik’s mouth dropped open in shock. “B-Bakura? You…”

This time, Bakura really did slap himself, a red mark blooming along his jawline that had nothing to do with the violent blush darkening his cheeks. Oh well, it was out now. Might as well make the most of it. “I didn’t want to admit it," he said, "because I’ve never loved anyone before, or I haven’t let myself, I’ve never let anyone get close to me, but then you came along and you were all I could think about, and I hate it, I fucking hate it, I can’t stand it, but it’s there, I can’t do anything about it, and then you stopped calling and – ”

“Fuck, breathe a little, man.”

There was no stopping Bakura now. “ – You stopped calling and I didn’t know what was going on, you wouldn’t respond to my messages and then I saw you were going on a date, and fuck, I should have been okay with that because all we do is fool around, but I wasn’t, I couldn’t…you’re not mine, but I couldn’t deal with the thought that someone else could touch you and kiss you, when it’s been six months since we started fucking and I’ve never felt your lips on mine and…and…fuck…” Bakura growled in frustration, clutching at his hair. “Fuck, how do people deal with this shit? I’m going crazy, Marik. I can’t deal with all this  _feeling.”_

“Bakura…” Marik whispered, his lavender eyes wide and sparkling with unshed emotion. Could he look any more beautiful? He seemed to just radiate pure perfection no matter what. Marik turned to face Bakura on the sofa, reaching out a hand, and when Bakura didn’t shy away, he rested it on his flushed cheek.

“Is this how you’ve felt…this whole time?” Marik asked, and Bakura nodded stiffly. “Oh, Bakura…” Marik breathed, “we’ve both been fools…”

He leaned in then, and Bakura let out an impassioned moan as their lips brushed together for the first time, the first gloriously fucking amazing time. A fire sparked deep in the pit of Bakura’s belly, sending shockwaves of searing heat through every nerve in his body. Grabbing Marik’s shoulders, he tugged him forcefully, sending them both crashing to the cushions of the sofa. Their tongues danced, their hips ground together. Bakura could taste lemon and mint on Marik’s tongue, smell the intoxicating notes of frankincense and rosemary in Marik’s cologne. Why had he denied himself this for so long? This was  _wonderful._

Bakura fumbled with Marik’s belt, eager to get it off, but Marik pulled back, frowning. Bakura sighed heavily. “What?!” he growled.

“I told you, Bakura…I don’t want to just be your fuck buddy anymore,” Marik said quietly.

“Then don’t be.”

“Hm?”

“I said, don’t be. I told you I fucking loved you, didn’t I?” Bakura tugged Marik back down, dotting soft whispers of kisses along his throat and jaw, stopping just by his ear. “I want more than this, and so do you,” he murmured, delighting in the gentle shiver that he felt from Marik. “It’d be damn stupid not to act on it, and let’s face it, we’ve nothing to lose.”

Marik pulled back further, his eyes wide with realisation as he gazed down at Bakura. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah…I guess,” Bakura shrugged. “Can we fuck now? I’m so done with embarrassing myself today.”

“No, no, no, wait a minute. I’m not satisfied yet. One more little bit of embarrassment, hm?” Marik kissed the tip of Bakura’s nose playfully. “Do it properly. Ask me out properly. I won’t be happy until you do.”

“I take it we’re not fucking unless I say it.”

“Kura!”

“Fine, fine! Marik Fucking Ishtar, will you be my dumbass boyfriend?”

The look of haughty pleasure that crossed Marik’s face almost made Bakura’s burning cheeks and hammering heartbeat worth the humiliation. Marik slid off the sofa and took Bakura’s hand in his own, tugging him gently towards the bedroom. Oh, fuck yes. He could definitely get over the humiliation.

 Once in the bedroom, a dim lamp was switched on for Marik’s benefit, and the kisses began again. Softer this time, and slower, only pausing for Bakura to tug his shirt off over his head. He didn’t make any move to remove Marik’s, knowing he would refuse, but this time there was no hesitation when his belt was opened, and his jeans slipped to the floor. Marik pushed Bakura onto the bed and made quick work of his own jeans, leaving him clad in just his boxers as Marik clambered atop him and began sucking at his throat.

Bakura gasped, closing his eyes and arching up into the wonderful array of sensations coursing through his body. “Mmmm…yes…there…”

“Oh?” Marik lifted his head, grinning. “That feel good?”

Bakura shoved Marik’s head back down wordlessly, encouraging him to go back to sucking. With his free hand, he slid down the back of Marik’s boxers, giving his backside a firm squeeze as they continued to rock their hips together, slowly, oh-so-slowly, dragging out their passion.

Before long, their boxers were thrown aside, and Bakura moaned out loud at the feel of Marik’s bare skin pressed so close to his own. He squeezed Marik between his thighs and they went back to kissing, so slow, so gentle, it felt as if the heavens had opened and blessed them with divine light. A bright ball of emotion swelled in Bakura’s chest, and he could have cried, he honestly could have shed tears for how fucking happy he was right now. Marik was back in his arms, letting him worship him with all the adoration he’d been holding back, and nothing could be better. He couldn’t want for anything else.

Well…maybe one thing. And Marik was about to give it to him. The beautiful Egyptian leaned back, lowered his hands to the hem of his shirt, and pulled it off in a single flourish. Bakura’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets. “Holy fuck,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” Marik teased, batting his eyelashes.

“I thought Kek was the only musclehead in your family.”

Marik chuckled. “I just like to keep fit. Draws in all the boys, you see. It certainly worked for you.”

As his lover leaned over to open the drawer where he knew Bakura kept his condoms and lube, Bakura spotted what Marik had kept concealed from him all this time. A deep, twisted scar began at his shoulder and stretched jaggedly down his back, a faded silvery-pink against the caramel of his skin. Maybe there were more, but he couldn’t see for now, and in any case, Marik had located the lube and thrust two fingers into Bakura, making his body jerk and spasm with pleasure. “You’re easily impressed,” Marik said, an amused grin on his face.

“What can I say?” Bakura panted through his groans. “I like abs so firm you could wash your clothes over them.” As if to demonstrate his point, he reached out a hand to drag his fingertips up and down Marik’s stomach, cursing his own slightly podgy abdomen for the first time. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking gorgeous?”

“Oh, I’ve lost count,” Marik replied with a wink. He added a third finger and hooked them upwards, making Bakura claw at the sheets and moan in ecstasy. “You’re not so bad yourself, honey.”

"I'm fat, compared to you."

"Maybe I like a little softness around the middle," Marik teased. Bakura smiled at that, closing his eyes and letting his fingers continue to wander over Marik's stomach as Marik's own digits pumped into him steadily.

It was time. Neither of them could hold back any longer. Marik slipped on a condom, doused himself and Bakura with lube, and pushed inside, both men gasping at the tightness, the heat, the pleasure.

Marik set up a gentle rhythm, holding Bakura close and drawing him in for a deep kiss. Their hips rocked together, soft, unhurried, a simple desire to be joined as one without the animalistic aggression of their previous sessions. Bakura couldn't believe how much he wanted it, being wrapped up in Marik's arms, moaning against his plump lips and feeling the pounding of their synchronising heartbeats. He truly had been a fool to deny himself this intimacy for so long, and he could feel Marik's passion poured out in every hitch of his hips, every stroke of fingertips across his shivering skin.

Marik wanted this too, that much was clear. He wanted the closeness. He wanted Bakura, and Bakura alone. That thought was nearly enough to drive Bakura over the edge before they'd barely even begun, but with a gentle yet firm grasp of Marik's hips, he encouraged the pace to slow down a little more.

"Bakura...gods, I love you..." Marik whispered against Bakura's lips, rosy and flushed from the friction of their kisses.

"I love you too, Marik." Nothing could have stopped Bakura from saying the words Marik wanted to hear.

"I don't -  _ahh... -_ ever want to be...away from you again..."

"You won't...I won't let you..."

"Stay with me, love."

"Mmm...oh, there...yes...I promise."

"Bakura, I'm...so close...!"

 _"Habibi...hayati..._ come for me!"

Hearing such endearing words in his native tongue sent Marik into overdrive. With a few more thrusts, he pressed his face into the crook of Bakura's neck, sighing and trembling as he climaxed.

Bakura stroked up and down Marik's arms and shoulders, careful to avoid his back. "You ass," he growled. "You didn't let me finish."

Marik’s eyes lifted, a cheeky grin playing around his lips as he pulled out of Bakura and disposed of the condom before wiping himself down briefly. He then reached out for the discarded bottle of lube, dispensing a little onto Bakura’s fingers. Bakura’s gaze grew a little unfocused at that, but a soft, lazy smile made its way onto his face as Marik straddled his lap and brought Bakura’s fingers round to press against his asshole.

Bakura didn’t need telling any further; he slipped one finger in, then two, watching Marik slowly ride his digits with lust burning in his eyes. He looked so beautiful, hair bouncing gently around his face and a thin sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. Bakura couldn’t wait to be inside him. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Marik scowled down at Bakura, pursing his lips. “You’re so impatient,” he chided.

“Damn right I am,” Bakura said, grinning. Pressing his fingers upwards as Marik rocked his hips down, he earned a deep moan from his partner. “Can you blame me? Riding my fingers like you’re about to ride my cock…of course I want you to hurry the fuck up.”

“Alright, fine,” Marik laughed softly. He grabbed a condom, quickly rolled it down Bakura's length, and poured a little more lube over him. As Bakura pulled his fingers out, Marik positioned himself, and dropped down with little resistance, tossing his head back and choking on a gasp.

"Oh, fuck!" Bakura moaned, gripping Marik's hips tightly.

"B-Ba...Bakura..." Marik's voice came out as an enthralled whisper. He rocked his body back and forth, trying to find the spot inside him that made him see stars.

It was awkward and sloppy, both men not used to the infrequency that came with Marik bottoming, and soon Bakura grew impatient again. He shot upright, readjusting their positions so they both sat facing each other, Marik a little higher up with his arms draped over Bakura's shoulders. With his hands caressing Marik's smooth behind, Bakura carefully lifted him up and down over his cock, aiding Marik's own slow bucks and rolls.

"Mmm..." Bakura hummed against Marik's kiss-swollen lips. "Yes...like that, Marik...does it feel good?"

"It feels amazing," Marik replied breathlessly. "You're so deep inside me, Kura..."

Bakura pulled his mouth from Marik's and dipped to take one of the Egyptian's stiffened nipples into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and sucking gently. Marik moaned deeply, thighs clenching and tightening his muscles around Bakura's cock. Bakura repeated the treatment on the opposite nipple, and Marik's hands tangled in his hair, pressing him closer, urging for more. The rocking of his hips became erratic jerks, thrown off his rhythm by Bakura's ministrations.

When Bakura slipped a hand down to tease Marik's cock, the pleasure increased immeasurably, and Marik cried out loudly. "Oh! Oh, Bakura!"

"Sensitive?" Bakura chuckled. "I imagine you are, aren't you. Should I stop?"

"Don't you dare!"

Bakura didn't stop. He continued to palm and squeeze Marik's shaft even as he himself hurtled towards orgasm. When the pleasure hit breaking point and Bakura came, he managed to hold on just long enough to jerk Marik into a second climax, spilling warm semen down his fingers. Only then did his minimal thrusting cease, and he rested his head against Marik's chest, breathing heavily. "Holy fuck," he whispered.

"What?" Marik laughed.

"What just happened?"

"We fucked, dumbass. Same as usual."

"No, this wasn't the same as usual." Bakura's mahogany eyes were oddly bright as he gazed back up at Marik. "I don't think it will ever be the same as it used to be."

Marik touched Bakura's cheek softly. "Can you handle that?"

For a moment, it looked as though Bakura would say no. He looked confused, maybe a little frightened, and truth be told, he felt it. It had been so long since he had felt his heart so open, so ready to accept another in his life who he could bring himself to love. Marik had done nothing but be himself, had never pushed Bakura for more, but Bakura had fallen for him all the same. There was only one answer he could give, and he gave it with an arrogant snort. "Bitch, I can handle anything you throw at me and more. Try me."

"I will." Marik brushed his lips over Bakura's brow tenderly. "I'm going to be throwing my love at you all the time now, so you'd better be prepared."

"Bring it, pretty boy."

Marik tacked Bakura to the mattress and drew him in for a kiss so soft, it brimmed with emotion that made Bakura's chest ache. It was the same ache he had felt at Yugi's house, but this one...he liked this one. He wanted more of it, every day, till the day he died. So he wrapped his arms around Marik's back, feeling, for the first time, the texture of Marik's scars against his skin, and kissed back with all the love he had to give.

"Is this okay?" Bakura whispered against Marik's lips. "That I'm touching them?"

Marik nodded, smiling. "It's okay," he said. "I trust you."

"Are you spending the night?"

"Do you want me to?"

"That's a fucking stupid question."

Marik pushed himself upright with a giggle. "In that case, I'm using your shower. Care to join me?"

"Fuck, yes." Bakura shot off the bed so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

In the bathroom, surrounded by swirling steam and warmed by the spray of water, Marik and Bakura admired each other, occasionally pausing to steal kisses in between their gentle touches. Marik let Bakura wash his back, and with his skin fully exposed, Bakura could now see the multitude of scars that marred the muscled expanse. As well as the one over Marik's shoulder that Bakura had spotted during their lovemaking, there were three more - two slim, vertical gashes running parallel on either side of his spine, and a short, irregular shaped mark near his hip. The urge to ask Marik where his scars came from stuck heavily on Bakura's tongue, but he quickly realised he didn't care. Marik would offer the story in his own time, or maybe not. It didn't matter. What mattered was here and now; Marik uttering soft, happy sighs as Bakura's fingers drew random patterns in the suds coating his caramel-toned skin, cleansing the sweat of their passion away.

Marik did the same for Bakura, and he felt himself relaxing in a way he had never allowed himself to feel around anybody. To be so close to Marik, feeling his hands and lips wandering over his skin, knowing that the beautiful young man was his, all his...it was heaven.

Afterwards, once they had dried off, they tumbled into bed, and when Marik curled up close to Bakura, instead of yelling or pushing him away, Bakura slid an arm under Marik's shoulders and let him rest his head, blonde hair all fluffy and wavy from just bring washed, on his pale chest. "So...going to tell me about your date?" Bakura teased.

Marik scowled. "I didn't go in the end," he murmured into Bakura's chest.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm an asshole. Sue me."

"Probably for the best. You know nobody else but me could handle your bullshit, Ishtar."

"Hmm. Maybe that's why I just can't seem to quit you."

Another thing Bakura had denied himself till now...post-sex cuddles and conversation. Why? Why had it been so important not to let anyone close? Bakura had erected the stone walls around his heart years ago, maybe to protect himself from getting hurt, or to prevent people from teasing Ryou. But Marik...Marik had practically bulldozed those walls down with barely any effort, and now here he was, nestled into Bakura's side, already half asleep, and Bakura soon followed him, hoping the blissful sensation in his chest would stick around for as long as possible...

...Till their next argument, at least, and they both knew that would just be a given if they were to be an actual couple.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Ryou is pretty much me where skincare is concerned – over the top and spending far too much money on Deciem. It works a treat, but when you’re having hormonal chin breakouts, it looks like you’ve got sod all to show for it other than an empty wallet and your boyfriend’s disapproval. xD_ **
> 
> ****  
>  **_Also, Deathshipping lemon. Or lime. Is it only a lemon if it isn’t full sex? I don’t fucking know. Smutty stuff. Yeah, that’ll do. Deathshipping smutty stuff. Yay!_ **
> 
> ****  
>  **_Oh, and as I mentioned on Tumblr, I have decided to add a fifth chapter, as Ryou's relationship with Kek and his upcoming surgery proved to be way too much to fit into a single chapter, so I've split it up._ **
> 
> ****

 

* * *

_Ya lahwy,_ how many products do you _own?”_ Kek laughed, picking up one of the many bottles that surrounded the sink, below the bathroom mirror he and Ryou were currently sharing.

They were at Marik and Kek’s apartment, getting ready for bed; Ryou applying his serums, Kek shaving. Dimly, down the hallway, Marik and Bakura were yelling at each other. That was nothing new, but the fact that Bakura was willing to spend the night when his lover’s brother, and his own brother, were also present, said a lot about how far their relationship had travelled in the six months since they made things official.

“Never enough,” Ryou replied, patting a dab of caffeine serum under his eyes. His hair was tied back and a soft headband kept his fringe away from his face. “Have you seen the amount of stuff under my bed?”

“No. Am I going to be horrified?”

“Probably just a little.”

Kek swore under his breath as he dragged a razor across his chin. “Fuck, Ryou. You have a problem.”

“Ha! I’m a makeup artist. Skincare is totally my jam.”

“No wonder Malik loves you so much.”

They finished off their regimens and brushed their teeth in relative silence, until Kek poked absently at a spot on his cheek. “Hey, snowflake, you have anything in those bottles for this annoying piece of shit?”

Ryou’s face lit up. “I have just the thing! One second…”

He peered at his multitude of ampoules a moment, then unscrewed one of them and squeezed a tiny amount onto his finger before patting it onto Kek’s cheek. “Salicylic acid – it’s a chemical exfoliant,” he explained. “No, it isn’t as scary as it sounds, and it’s amazing for spot-prone skin. My skin went haywire when I first started on testosterone, and stuff like this was my saving grace.”

Kek ruffled Ryou’s hair, grinning. “Thanks, dude. Okay…so, are you taking my bed?”

“What?” Ryou raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be silly. I’ll sleep on the sofa, of course.”

“Erm, nope. You’re our guest and you’re taking my bed.”

“Kek – ”

“Ryou.”

Ryou sighed heavily. “Alright, alright. But you’re sleeping in it too.”

That made Kek pause and drop his amused smile.

Their relationship had been, for the most part, easy-going. They felt comfortable not seeing each other for days or weeks at a time, but also felt comfortable with cuddling and holding hands without the urge to develop their feelings into anything more intimate. Kek had lost count of the number of times they had fallen asleep together on the sofa or floor during a horror movie marathon. But in bed? The same bed? Was that appropriate? Was it allowed?

By this point, both parties were definitely aware their feelings were becoming a great deal more sexual. There was little point in hiding that…and yet, it was still too soon for them to progress.

Maybe in a few weeks…just maybe…after Ryou’s surgery. But Kek was still unsure of himself. His mental wellbeing had taken a recent dip, and he hated the idea of Ryou being exposed to his moments of madness, when he had managed to conceal the worst parts from him, for so long. He wasn’t sure he could ever inflict that on the beautiful young man that had accepted him into his life.

Ryou noticed the change in Kek’s expression and stood on tiptoe to peck his cheek, giggling. “You’re overthinking it. It’ll be fine, I promise you.” He took Kek’s hand and tugged gently. “Come on. Our flight is pretty early, so we’d best get to sleep soon.”

It was probably a good thing that Ryou was to sleep in Kek’s bed, because Marik and Bakura were currently hogging the sofa and still arguing. There was no malice in their words, however, and Marik was giving Bakura a foot rub as they threw insults back and forth. Ryou gave them a wave as he walked, hand in hand with Kek, towards Kek’s bedroom. “Leave the door open, kids!” Bakura yelled at their retreating backs. “No funny business!”

“Fuck you!” Kek shouted back.

“In your dreams, ‘roids for brains!”

 _“Habibi!”_ Marik scolded.

Kek rolled his eyes, kicking his bedroom door closed and dropping Ryou’s hand. Ryou laughed as he tugged his shirt off over his head and laid it carefully over the back of Kek’s gaming chair. “Brothers, eh?”

“They’re certainly one of a kind, those two.” Kek had already been dressed for sleep in just a pair of comfy sweatpants, and he hopped into bed, sweeping a few stray crumbs off the mattress. Unlike Marik, Kek was not averse to having his scars on show, frequently going shirtless at the gym, but he was so well-built and fit that most people just stared at his chest and abs instead of his back. Contrary to Bakura’s quip, no steroids were involved, just pure hard work and a lot of protein.

Ryou didn’t fail to notice the way Kek’s deep purple eyes swept, almost admiringly, up and down his own chest. It made him warm and fuzzy inside, and a little giddy. He removed his jeans and clambered in beside Kek, pulling his hair free of the bobble and headband before laying his head down against the pillows and sighing happily. “Oh! Your bed is so warm and comfy!”

“That’s why it’s my breakdown hideout,” Kek said with a self-depreciating grin. Well, if you couldn’t laugh at your own mental fuck-ups, what _could_ you do?

Ryou pursed his lips, concerned. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, coming with me?” he asked. “I know hospitals are a trigger for you…”

“Well, I mean, it’s more like a clinic you’re going to, right?” Kek said. “I’ll be fine there, I’m sure.”

Ryou smiled at Kek, feeling relieved. “Can you believe it, though? That I’m taking this massive step? I must either be stupid or really, really sure of myself.”

“Letting some random person cut into your genitalia? Yeah, I’d say you’re stupid,” Kek winked, “but I’ve known you long enough now, Ryou. I’ve watched you dither over this repeatedly, and clog up your browser with God knows what research. You’ve not made your decision lightly. This is what you need to feel complete, and I’m fucking proud of you for going ahead with it.”

Ryou let out a happy sigh, scooting a little closer and resting his brow against Kek’s shoulder. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he whispered, “and really pleased that you’re flying out with me. The hysterectomy was hell and I was so _sore!_ Dealing with that on my own was horrible. Having you here with me will make it much easier.”

“Anything for you, Ryou.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Just to you. I’m an asshole to everyone else.”

“If you say so,” Ryou giggled.

“Hey…Ryou?”

“Yeah?”

“You can, um…you can cuddle up if you want. You know, properly. I don’t mind.”

Ryou’s face practically lit up at the suggestion and he immediately closed the remaining distance, snuggling his head into the firm contours of Kek’s chest. A pale arm was slung over Kek’s stomach, and a foot poked playfully at his ankle. “Fuck, you don’t do things by halves,” Kek said, laughing.

“I like my cuddles,” Ryou grinned.

Kek wrapped an arm round Ryou’s shoulders, using his free hand to stroke soft, white hair away from Ryou’s face. “Hmmm…yeah, me too. Just when it’s you, snowflake.”

And that was how they fell asleep, content and secure in each other’s arms.

* * *

The flight was, at Ryou’s favourite time-based phrase, “stupid o’clock,” but both young men managed to get up on time and they bundled their half-asleep selves, plus luggage, into a taxi towards the airport. Being used to getting up early for work, Ryou remained fairly alert throughout the trip, but Kek dozed happily on Ryou’s shoulder the whole time, only waking once they had arrived at the airport. They boarded the flight with little difficulty, and spent the six hours in the sky playing Pokémon Blue and Red on their 3DSes. Kek had recently introduced Ryou to the Virtual Console and now the white-haired man was hooked on buying all the retro games he’d loved as a child. They were so into their games, racing each other from gym to gym, that they were touching down in Bangkok before they knew it.

Ryou had spoken with his consultant via video chat in the run-up to his surgery, and everything had been arranged for the day after their arrival, which gave him and Kek some time to settle into their hotel room. There was the option to recover at the clinic where the surgery would take place, and Ryou had stayed there in previous years, but knowing that being in a clinical setting long-term – despite Kek’s assurances - was likely to negatively affect his friend, he had decided not to this time. Inwardly, he was rather thrilled at the prospect of spending so much time with Kek.

Ryou had booked a month off work, and three of those weeks would be spent in Thailand. Kek worked from home, and had brought his laptop, but he worked fast and only needed to glance at it occasionally. Currently, he sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, balancing it on his knee as he typed. Ryou lay on his belly, chin cupped in his hands, watching the way Kek’s fingers danced across the keyboard. "Hey, Kek,” he said, “when you're finished, can I show you something?"

Kek nodded briefly, not taking his eyes away from the screen. "Yeah, just give me a moment to finish this…won’t be a moment…” He finished typing and twitched his head to indicate for Ryou to get up, then passed the laptop over to him. “Here you go. What are you showing me?"

"I just need to log into my Dropbox...one sec..." Ryou furrowed his brow as he keyed in his password, then completed the two-step authentication via his mobile. He tapped the mousepad a few times, then swivelled the laptop round, showing the beginning of a video. "I, um...you know, with my meta being tomorrow and all..." he murmured, a light blush on his cheeks, "I wanted to show you...um...well, see for yourself."

Kek's eyes widened as he realised what he was seeing.

_Two children with starlight hair sat in front of an old, beat-up television, controllers in their hands as they went head-to-head on a retro fighting game. A woman's voice called from behind the camera, "Now, now, you two! Play nicely, please. I don't want to find another console broken out of Touzo's rage."_

"Okaasan!" _the younger child, dressed in a grey t-shirt and pink jeans, wailed in a high-pitched, distinctly feminine voice, "Touzo-_ nii _won't play fair!"_

_"Not my fault you suck at this," younger Bakura snorted. He looked much the same as his current self, but minus the scar on his face, and his hair was shorter, neater. "Mum, why are you filming us?"_

_"Your father wants an update on his little cherubs while he's away."_

_"Amane's the cherub, film her instead."_

_Said cherub took that opportunity to whack her brother with her controller, and instead of capturing a touching moment on film, their mother instead ended up sending her husband yet another fight._

Kek closed the laptop, breathing heavily as though he had just run a marathon. Slowly, he put it aside, his eyes fixed on Ryou the whole time. The white-haired man fidgeted as if uncomfortable, not meeting his gaze. "Was that...was that you, as a child?" Kek whispered, and Ryou nodded, still blushing. "Why did you show me this, Ryou?"

"Because..." Ryou said quietly, fiddling with his hair, "I just...I knew this was my last real chance to look back at myself as I was, and I...I wanted you to share in that, too. I'm not ashamed of who I was, and I won't ever be. It's just strange, seeing me like that, you know, looking like a girl. I guess I never was a girl, not really, but you deserved to be privy to this little secret I just can't seem to bring myself to delete from my cloud storage, and…oh, man, I’m rambling, I’m sorry – ”

Kek shook his head, dismissing Ryou’s apology. "Why me?" he asked.

"Because I love you, silly Kek."

Now it was Kek's turn to blush. "Ryou...you keep saying things like that, and I won't be responsible for the onslaught of hugs you'll receive."

Ryou's blush faded, replaced with a cheeky grin. "But I do love you. Can't you handle that?"

"You asked for it, kiddo!" Kek tackled Ryou to the mattress and swept him up into his powerful, muscled arms. Ryou giggled, struggling and squirming in an attempt to free himself. "Thank you," Kek smiled down at him, "thank you so much. It must have been difficult for you to show me that video, but I'm fucking honoured that you did. You were a cute kid. You should wear pink more often, it suits you."

Ryou smiled sadly. "I still love pink, and glitter, and playing with makeup, and doing my hair and dressing up, but I can't get away with that now...it's not something people think boys should do."

"Fuck them," Kek snorted. "If you want to doll yourself up, then go crazy. In fact, I’ll even do it with you. Let’s see the transphobic, homophobic arseholes tell _me_ that men don’t do glitter and makeup.”

The thought of Kek, all six foot six of him, a rugged boulder of muscle and intimidation, playing dress-up and dabbing glitter onto his cheekbones, caused an overwhelming rush of love to resonate in Ryou’s chest. Kek truly had a heart of gold beneath his bulky exterior.

As Ryou gazed up at Kek’s grinning face, he found himself being drawn downwards, focusing on Kek’s full, plump, slightly parted lips. Ryou thought about swiping pink gloss over those beautiful lips, and running his fingers through his wild mess of blonde hair to play with it, braid it, use it as reins to yank him in and kiss him hard –

“Oh, god,” Ryou breathed, before he could censor himself, suddenly painfully aware of the position they were in. When Kek had tackled him, he’d ended up straddled over one of Ryou’s legs, the other sticking out a little awkwardly at an angle, and Ryou’s hands were pinned either side of his head by Kek’s strong grip. They were pressed so close together, there was surely no way Kek couldn’t feel the searing heat beginning to build up between Ryou’s thighs.

It seemed Kek was thinking along the same lines. Slowly, his hold on Ryou’s wrists slackened, and his head dipped a little, till their faces were mere inches apart. The tips of their noses brushed together gently, and Ryou felt the warm wash of Kek’s breath over his mouth.

“Ryou…” Kek whispered, his purple eyes half-lidded and almost smouldering with emotion. “Ryou, I…I love you, too…”

Ryou couldn’t get his words out. They stuck in his chest the moment he felt Kek’s nose touch his, clinging fast to his lungs at Kek’s declaration of love. He did the only thing he could coherently express without words, sliding his hands from beneath Kek’s grip and raising them to cup his blushing, copper-toned cheeks. The warmth he saw sparkling in Kek’s eyes told him everything; it was okay to do this. They were ready. It was time to take the big step.

Leaning up, Ryou closed the gap, letting his lips brush over Kek’s. Kek let out a soft sigh at the tender contact, his eyes fluttering closed. Ryou kissed him again, this time sucking lightly on his bottom lip as he pulled away. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, “about us. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Kek chuckled, his cheeks still adorably flushed. “No, me neither.”

“Can you…I mean to say…are you comfortable with…?”

“You’re not the first trans guy I’ve been with, Ryou. Just tell me where not to touch.”

Now it was Ryou’s turn to blush. “My, um…” He scowled, his nose wrinkling. “My…vagina…is off-limits. Anything else is fair game.”

“Clit as well?”

“Going to be a cock from tomorrow. You might as well have some fun with it while it’s still there.”

Kek laughed softly. “I like your thinking.” He leaned down, kissing Ryou, long, slow, and deep. Their lips shone with saliva by the time they pulled away from each other, and Kek slipped his hands under Ryou’s shirt, easing it up and over his head. White hair cascaded in every direction across the pillows. “You’re beautiful,” Kek whispered, kissing along Ryou’s collarbone. “I’ve never desired anything more than I desire you.”

“You flatterer,” Ryou giggled. Kek’s lips were a little rough as they moved across his skin, but he loved the sensation and squirmed in delight. He tugged gently at the top of Kek’s loose black vest, and Kek drew back a moment to pull it off before descending back onto Ryou. His mouth found a pert nipple, tongue flicking over it playfully, drawing a gasp from Ryou and sending a shock of pleasure to his very core. “Oh, god…Kek…” he whispered, voice husky and trembling with emotion.

“Mmm…you sound so hot when you’re in pleasure,” Kek murmured. His fingers popped the button of Ryou’s jeans as his mouth moved to the other nipple; this time Ryou moaned and clutched at Kek’s hair. His hips took on a mind of their own, and they began to rock upwards as Kek slid Ryou’s jeans and boxers down frost-white legs and tossed them to the floor.

Ryou felt his face flush once more. He wasn’t ashamed of his body, of his remaining female parts, but this was the first time anybody besides himself, since he’d started hormone treatment, had gazed upon him in all his naked glory. No amount of testosterone could change the feminine shape of his pelvis, but it had substantially increased the size of his clitoris. While that was necessary for his surgery to go ahead without a hitch, it was nevertheless something he was rather self-conscious about.

But Kek only gazed down at him with a gentle smile, full of adoration. "You're beautiful," he said again, sounding a little breathless. He began to lean down, parting Ryou's legs further with his hands, but stopped, eyes flicking up to Ryou for confirmation. "May I?"

"You may," Ryou smiled back.

The look in Kek's eyes became slightly wild, a feral need consuming him. His head dipped, lips landing on the very tip of Ryou's clit in a playful kiss. Ryou squealed and bucked, not expecting the intense jolt of pleasure that ran through him at the brief contact. Slowly, Kek swirled his tongue over the swollen, sensitive bud, his eyes never leaving Ryou's face.

"Oh, Kek...oh, fuck...ohhh...that feels so good!" Ryou gripped the sheets with trembling hands, gasping and moaning with every brush of Kek's tongue. "Don't stop...don't stop!"

Kek didn’t stop. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment, and smoothed his hands up Ryou’s thighs, up his stomach, teasing Ryou's nipples with his fingers as his tongue danced. Ryou writhed and called out, helpless to the rapid rise of ecstasy coursing through his body, and when he came, he tangled his hands in Kek’s hair and screamed his name to the ceiling before settling limply back into the bed.

But Kek wasn’t done yet. Smoothing his tongue over his lips as he pulled back, a wicked smirk twisted his features and his hands carefully gripped Ryou’s hips. With a quick twist, he flipped Ryou over onto hands and knees, earning him a squeak of surprise.

“O-Oh! Kek, what - ?” A gentle, sudden burst of pleasure tingled all the way from Ryou’s asshole to the top of his spine, and he arched back, gasping. “Mmm…ohhh, do that again, please - !”

Kek chuckled, giving another lick to the quivering hole and enjoying the way Ryou’s body shook and spasmed in response. With one hand, he reached round to tease Ryou’s climax-swollen clit, and with the other he caressed and squeezed Ryou's soft, delectable, backside.

With each dip in and out of Kek’s tongue, Ryou moaned loudly, every nerve in his body feeling as though it were on fire. He shifted his legs apart as far as he could to give Kek room to work, the intense pressure in the pit of his stomach building up once more.

He was close, so close…it was like Kek knew his body inside out, knew just the right way to take him to heaven and back. If just fooling around with Kek was this good, what was sleeping with him going to feel like? Ryou’s head spun just at the thought of it, dizzy with the overwhelming sensation sizzling through his very being.

Kek’s teasing brushes around Ryou’s clit turned to firm, circular motions, and Ryou lost it completely. Throwing his head back, he felt his thighs tremble uncontrollably, heard his voice crescendo into a high scream. “I’m coming! I’m coming! Yes! Yes! Yes! Kek! Oh, fuck!”

Kek continued his ministrations until Ryou stopped shaking, then slowly pulled back as Ryou collapsed, face-first, into the mattress, breathing hard. Two orgasms in quick succession…Ryou had never known such wonderful pleasure. His body felt heavy, sluggish, but oh-so-satisfied, and Kek’s hands smoothing up his back were a comforting, welcome touch.

“You okay?” Kek asked softly, leaning over Ryou.

Ryou giggled, nodding in response as he lifted his head up to look at Kek. “I feel amazing,” he said. “Just…give me a minute to recover, alright?”

“Of course.” Kek’s hands reached Ryou’s shoulders, and he rubbed them tenderly.

After a moment to catch his breath, Ryou flipped over and rose to his knees, capturing Kek’s lips in a hungry kiss. His hands fumbled at Kek’s beltline, tugging his trousers and boxers down insistently. Kek slid off the bed and stood upright so Ryou could shed him of his remaining clothing, and then Ryou sat back on his heels to admire Kek’s chiselled form, the overhead light glinting off his bronzed skin and highlighting his sheer, naked, perfection.

“Holy fuck…you’re gorgeous,” Ryou whispered, and Kek laughed self-consciously, scratching the back of his head. He truly was breathtakingly beautiful, with his mop of blonde hair hanging alluringly into his eyes and every muscle on his body firm and defined, practically begging for Ryou to run his tongue over them. Ryou’s eyes travelled down Kek’s sculpted stomach, down the tempting V of his hips, down, down, down…to the neat little patch of straw-coloured hair resting above his cock, stiff with desire and thicker than Ryou had imagined. His mouth practically watered at the sight. Slowly, he reached out a hand, but stopped just short of touching, looking up to Kek for confirmation. Kek smirked and nodded, letting his fingers brush over Ryou's wrist as he guided him forward.

Ryou's fingers trailed delicately, slowly, up Kek's length, and the Egyptian sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut as a shudder wracked his body. "I want to make you feel as good as you just made me feel," Ryou grinned up at Kek. "What's off-limits for you?"

"Not much," Kek chuckled. "Do whatever you like, snowflake."

"Can I use my fingers inside you?"

Kek’s eyes glazed over, already half-lost in lustful fantasy. "Oh, holy fuck, yes.”

Giggling, Ryou drew back, holding up a finger to tell Kek to wait a moment. Leaning over the side of the bed with his pert, white bottom pointing upwards, Ryou dug through his luggage until he found a small bottle of squalane oil that he usually used to remove his makeup. In a way, he was glad there was no lube, because oil wouldn't be enough if they decided to have full, penetrative, sex, but in all honesty, Ryou didn't want that right now. No, this moment was perfect...just the two of them, getting to know each others' bodies more intimately, not yet complete slaves to carnal lust. He wanted to save the biggest moment for after the surgery...when he could hopefully, finally, feel comfortable in his own skin, the person he was always meant to be.

Returning to a kneeling position, Ryou coated the fingers of his right hand with oil, gripping the base of Kek's cock with his left. His tongue slipped out, drawing the very tip along the underside of the head, watching Kek's reaction and being immensely pleased to see the ruddy flush darkening his cheeks. Another lick, Ryou flattening his tongue, and Kek moaned softly, biting his lip. He brushed Ryou's hair away from his face as he worked, purple eyes meeting brown, and in that instant, the connection they felt was infinite. There wasn't anything in the world that could tear them apart.

Kek's moans increased in volume when Ryou carefully pushed a slick finger into him, getting a feel for his body. He was soft and warm, and his muscles periodically gripped Ryou's digit with surprising strength every time Kek shuddered in pleasure. Ryou added a second finger, pressing them upwards as he opened his mouth to swallow the blushing head of Kek's cock.

"Oh, Ryou, fuck...oh, yeah...like that...mmm..." Kek's voice was throaty and practically boiling with lust. He gripped Ryou's hair with one hand, his shoulder with the other, and his hips gave slight hitches back and forth, pressing into Ryou's mouth and then back into his fingers.

It pleased Ryou immensely to see Kek so caught up in pleasure that he could barely form a coherent sentence. Pressing his fingers in deeper, he slid his lips lower down Kek's length, taking deep breaths to relax his throat and trying to feel for Kek's prostate. Kek was patient, simply enjoying the feel of Ryou sliding, hooking, circling his fingers. The position they were in made it awkward, but both were too immersed in their actions to even consider moving.

At last, Ryou located the soft, smooth bump, and massaged around it with gentle but firm motions. A gasp, then a string of Arabic curses flew from Kek's mouth before he managed to switch back to Japanese, "There! Holy fuck, there! Keep going! Oh, Ryou! I'm gonna cum!"

Ryou felt the deep pulses in Kek's cock and closed his eyes, slowing down the bobs of his head but continuing to massage Kek's prostate. Kek's grip on Ryou's hair tightened and he let out a deep, shaky exhale, spilling into Ryou's waiting mouth. Ryou swallowed effortlessly, loving the panting, shaking mess he'd made of Kek and opting to tease him a little with soft flutters of his tongue along his climax-sensitive shaft. With every brush of his tongue, Kek spasmed and trembled, groaning softly.

Ryou drew back, licking the corner of his lip and grinning mischievously. He hopped off the bed and slipped into the bathroom to wash his hands and clean his teeth, then he swapped with Kek. By the time Kek returned, Ryou had put his boxers back on and lay on his side atop the bedclothes, flicking through his phone. "That was fun," he giggled, glancing over his shoulder at Kek. "I think it’s good that we waited as long as we did, though. I couldn’t imagine us doing any of that even just a few weeks ago.”

"Me too, snowflake." Kek joined Ryou on the bed and kissed his lips lightly. "I mean, we’ve been really comfortable around each other for a long time, but this was…well, it was something else, for sure.”

“We were ready,” Ryou shrugged. “It was a no-brainer.”

Kek continued to press soft kisses onto Ryou’s lips, moving to his cheeks and nose. “Gods, you’re so fucking sweet. How you accept me as I am, I have no idea, but I can't complain. You've made me happier than I ever remember being."

Ryou smiled tenderly. "I could say the same for you. How many guys would be okay with 'the dude with girl parts'?"

"You just need to date more pansexuals."

"Why would I need more? I have you."

"That's true." Kek poked Ryou's nose, smirking. "And, just for the record, I don't like to share."

"I wouldn't want to be shared anyway - wait, did you say date?"

"Uh, yeah...I guess I did."

"Are we dating?"

"Be a fucking waste of a good blowjob and months worth of sexual tension and cuddling if not."

Ryou nodded slowly, thinking. "I've not dated anyone in quite a long time."

"That makes two of us."

"It'd be like a fresh start for us, wouldn't it? Only we already know each other as if we've been a couple forever." Ryou leaned against Kek, smiling gently. "I can't wait to see people's faces when I introduce the freakishly tall, Egyptian musclehead as my boyfriend."

"Ha! You make me sound scary."

"I like scary," Ryou purred. Kek laughed at that, and took Ryou’s phone out of his hand in favour of sweeping him into his arms and kissing him with all the love he had to give.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _I’ve had to bump this up to six chapters. I just can’t seem to stop writing!_  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> ****  
> **  
> _Content warning in this chapter for sickness, hospitals, and DID-induced alter switching._  
>  **
> 
>  
> 
> ****  
> **  
> _Ryou contracts sepsis after his surgery, and Kek switches to a younger, more childish alter for a short time. Usually I wouldn’t like to spoil anything, but I feel it’s probably best you know, in case you may be sensitive to what goes on._  
>  **

 

* * *

Eight-way Super Smash Bros. always made for an interesting games night, but Bakura knew he was likely to be getting numerous noise complaints from his neighbours by the end of the day. Unfortunately for them, he didn’t give a flying fuck.

Marik, Mai, Yugi, Atem, Otogi, Kajiki, and Seto fucking Kaiba, of all people, had crowded into Bakura’s living room, made themselves comfortable on the multitude of beanbags and cushions scattered around (since Bakura was too lazy to buy actual furniture), and quickly decided they wanted to play the only game that would accommodate everybody. Luckily, Bakura had the right amount of controllers and adapters for them, and soon they were all happily playing away in teams: Bakura and Mai, Atem and Kaiba, Yugi and Marik, Otogi and Kajiki. Bakura had taken it upon himself to make Marik’s gameplay experience as annoying as possible, repeatedly throwing Poké Balls at his head and using Kirby to eat him. Eventually Marik got pissed off enough to completely forget Japanese, and started swearing loudly in Arabic, much to Atem and Bakura’s amusement. Meanwhile, Kaiba blazed through the battlefield, taking the whole game way too seriously as always, while everyone else just did their best to stay out of his way.

Afterwards, everyone ordered takeout, and Marik and Atem, despite it being their first time meeting each other, ended up curled on the same beanbag together, sharing their food and conversing in rapid-fire Arabic. Bakura couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and even Yugi looked slightly bemused at the sight of their significant others acting as if they’d known each other their whole lives. “Are, um…are Egyptians usually this close to each other?” he laughed.

“I suppose, if all Egyptians are gay, vegan, flamboyant assholes,” Bakura grinned. “Ah, leave ‘em to it, they’re happy.”

“Yeah, it’s quite nice to see, actually.”

“Just so long as Marik doesn’t start asking how you two got married, because I am _not_ up for him getting any ideas.”

“We flew to England, but yeah, not for everyone,” shrugged Yugi. He paused to nibble on a slice of pizza before speaking again. “Oh, hey…how’s your brother? Did his surgery go okay?”

Ryou’s surgery had indeed been a resounding success. The poor thing was bruised and swollen and catheterised for the time being while he healed, and he had looked tired and stiff every time they’d had a video chat, but everything had gone well overall. Kek had been looking after him, and now they were on their way back to Japan, their flight due to touch down at the airport, well, any time now. Bakura relayed all this to Yugi, who looked immensely pleased. “I’m so glad! Maybe I’ll drop by and say hello when he feels up to it…we’ve not really seen each other since school.”

“He’d like that,” Bakura murmured, checking the time on his phone and then twisting to look for Mai. “Hey, sugar tits! You said you wanted to pick Ryou up from the airport, didn’t you?”

“Yep! Is it time?”

“Just about. But go easy on those potholes, alright?”

“Will do, darling.” Mai pulled herself to her feet and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon. Have fun, boys!”

They continued to play games for a time, and after around an hour, Kaiba checked his watch and sighed. “I should be going. I’ve a ton of reports to file and Mokuba will kick my ass if I’m late.”

“Kaiba, you literally live in a mansion full of servants,” Kajiki pointed out, “and yet you’re scared of your kid brother telling you off?”

Kaiba just smirked as he slipped his jacket on. “There are some things only siblings will understand, Kajiki. Isn’t that right, Bakura?”

“He’s not wrong,” Bakura chuckled. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow, boss.”

“Don’t call me that, Touzo,” Kaiba scowled.

Bakura’s brow furrowed, his dislike of his name being used by someone other than Ryou evident. “How about Sir?” he suggested, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

“Fuck you.”

Yugi smirked, flapping a hand in Kaiba’s general direction. “Go on, before I tell Mokuba we’re keeping you for the night.”

“I hate you all,” Kaiba muttered under his breath as he stalked towards the door.

Barely a moment after the door had shut behind Kaiba, Bakura’s mobile rang. He fished it out of his pocket and pressed the screen to accept the incoming call from Mai. “Are you phoning me while driving? What’s up?”

“No, I’m not driving. Darling, I’ve taken Ryou to hospital,” Mai replied, sounding worried.

“Wait, what?!” Bakura shouted, drawing startled glances from his friends.

“He kept saying he’s fine, but he isn’t. He’s boiling hot, sweating, and shivering like crazy. He’s in so much pain he couldn’t even sit down in the car, and had to put his head in Kek’s lap the whole time. I wasn’t risking it, Kura. They’ve rushed him through for testing now.”

“I’m on my way.” Bakura jumped to his feet. “Where’s Kek?”

“He’s here with me.”

“Okay, stay there, alright? I’ll be down as quick as I can.”

“Sure thing, darling. I’ll be waiting in the emergency room.”

Bakura put his phone away and gestured urgently to Marik, who had been staring at him the whole time. “We need to go,” he said, “right now. Ryou’s in hospital.”

“What?” Marik frowned. _“Habibi,_ what’s going on?”

“No time! Get up already!”

“What’s going on?” Atem repeated.

“Family emergency.” Bakura was already grabbing his jacket and digging through his pocket for his car keys. “Stay here, go home, I really don’t fucking care, but I have to go, alright? I’ll text you when I know what’s happening.” And with that, Bakura grabbed Marik’s wrist and dragged him out of the apartment.

* * *

“Bakura, you’re driving like a maniac!” Marik exclaimed, swatting at his boyfriend’s leg in an attempt to get him to remove his foot from the accelerator. “Slow down, okay?”

Bakura ignored Marik and continued his ridiculous speed down the road. Marik could feel the panic radiating in waves off Bakura, but there wasn’t going to be anything he could do to calm him. All he could do was hope that he wouldn’t crash the car or cause anyone serious injury.

_Ryou’s being looked after, but Kek…oh, fuck, I hope Kek’s not switched alters in there. That’s the last thing we need right now._

His worst suspicions were confirmed when they pulled up at the hospital and hurried off to find Mai. She was settled, cross-legged, in a chair, reading a magazine, and Kek sat on the floor by her feet, drawing patterns in the grime on the tiled floor. That alone was a major giveaway, but the fact he was using his right hand rather than his dominant left sealed it; he’d switched to the quiet, calm, childish personality that had protected him all those years ago.

As Marik knelt beside Kek, Mai jumped up to embrace a flustered Bakura, hushing him soothingly. “Hey now, calm down, Kura,” she whispered.

“Where is he?”

“In the next room, but they’re still running tests – ”

Bakura threw Mai’s arms off his shoulders and ran off to find his brother. Mai glanced quickly at Marik and Kek, then with a resigned expression, followed after Bakura, leaving Marik to tap on Kek’s shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, Kek. You know there are chairs in here, right? Come on, get up.”

Kek glanced at Marik, a small smile brightening his face. When he spoke, it was in Arabic; this personality knew little Japanese. “But I like it down here, Malik,” he said, in a soft, slightly breathy voice. “I wanted to draw.”

“On the floor?”

“I couldn’t see any pencils or papers.” Kek rested his chin in his hands. “It’s boring in here. Can we go home?”

“Kek…do you even know why we’re here?” Marik sat down in Mai’s abandoned seat.

“Mm. Ryou is sick.”

“Don’t you want to wait for him to come back out?”

Kek shook his head. “We don’t want to see blood. Malik, can we go home now?”

“Blood? Is Ryou bleeding?”

“No. They brought an old man through, on a bed with wheels. He had blood all over him, and we couldn’t stand it, so I protected us.”

“Will you let him back out?”

“Not yet. We need some time.”

So it wasn’t Ryou’s deterioration that had caused the switch. It had been something else that Kek had witnessed inside the hospital. This younger personality often hung onto the memories he formed when he was “in the light,” so to speak, and unless hypnotised, Kek was unlikely to be able to recall what had happened. Maybe it was better that way.

But despite that…Marik had known that this environment would have been more than Kek could stand, and yet his brother seemed to be dealing with the switch well, not fighting it as he often did. He’d expected much worse when he walked in; maybe Kek would be able to switch back sooner than usual. “We should go and see Ryou,” Marik told Kek softly. “I promise there’ll be no blood. I’ll cover your eyes if I think there might be any, okay?”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“You’re the best, big brother.” Kek stood up and wiped his grimy fingers on the hem of his shirt, giggling. “There’s dirt under my nails.”

“That’s what you get for drawing on the floor, silly,” Marik chided, giving Kek a gentle push towards the door Bakura and Mai had gone through. “Hospitals are gross places.”

They found Bakura and Mai after a few curtain twitches and hushed calling of names. Bakura sat in a chair beside Ryou, while Mai hovered over his shoulder. Ryou lay curled on his side in an old hospital bed, chatting away to his brother. He had an IV drip in each hand, and despite being well-swaddled in blankets, he shivered violently, his cheeks flushed scarlet and sweat matting his hair to his forehead. Marik stayed back, giving Ryou some space to catch up with Bakura, and Kek did the same, though he had ducked behind Marik as if scared. It did little good to conceal him, given that he was taller.

Mai leaned down to peck Ryou on the cheek and touch Bakura’s shoulder. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Mai,” Bakura murmured.

“See you later, darlings.” Mai breezed out of the curtained cubicle with a wave.

“Is there blood?” Kek asked quietly. He had his face turned away, so he couldn’t see.

“No, _akhun,”_ Marik assured him. “No blood.”

Ryou lifted his head, his eyes feverishly bright. “Kek?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

Kek just looked at him blankly, then looked to Marik for confirmation. “Sorry, honey,” Marik murmured in Japanese, “he’s…kind of…away for now.”

“Has he switched?”

“Mm.”

A look of faint sorrow shadowed Ryou’s expression, then he sighed and reached out to Kek, speaking in soft, comforting Arabic, trying to reassure him that he wasn’t in any danger. After a moment, Kek slipped out from behind Marik and crouched by the side of the bed, smiling at Ryou. Not for the first time, Marik marvelled at Ryou’s ability to work around Kek’s instability.

“You’ve got funny things sticking out of you,” Kek giggled, gently tapping a cannula on the back of Ryou’s hand.

“They aren’t the only funny things sticking out of me,” Ryou replied with a grin, gesturing to the catheter that came out just below his navel. “It seems people just can’t get enough of shoving little plastic tubes into me, all over.”

“When can you go home, Ryou?”

“Soon, hopefully. Please don’t worry. I’ll be well looked after.” Ryou’s eyes were soft as he stroked Kek’s hair back from his face. Kek’s own eyes closed and he leaned his head further into Ryou’s touch, sighing. Gradually, he shifted closer, closer, until he had slid up and onto the bed, nestling his brow against Ryou’s shoulder. Carefully, so as not to snag the drips in his hands, Ryou wrapped his arms around Kek, still shivering, but appearing calmer.

Looking away from the touching scene, Bakura held his hand out to Marik, who slipped around the side of the bed and settled in Bakura’s lap. “We’re going to look a real sight to the next nurse who walks in here,” Marik giggled, stroking Bakura’s knee.

“Speak for yourself,” Bakura sniffed. “You _always_ look a sight.”

“Fuck you.”

“If you like.”

_“Habibi!”_

It seemed the familiar sound of banter, combined with the security of being wrapped up in Ryou’s embrace, was beginning to bring Kek around. He pulled back slightly, and Marik immediately recognised the rapidly blinking eyes, the confusion in his gaze. Then, with a shudder, the “host” was back in the light. He glanced at his brother, then Bakura, then Ryou. “I’m sure we were in a car just a moment ago,” he whispered. “What happened?”

Ryou shook his head, pressing a gentle kiss to Kek’s cheek. “Nothing you need to worry yourself about, love.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Kek’s voice was hoarse, as if unused to the switch back to his usual gruff tone. “You’re really sick, Ryou.”

“A few rounds of antibiotics and I’ll be fine, I promise.” Ryou slumped back, closing his eyes. “I do feel like absolute hell, though, and that’s _without_ taking recovery from surgery into account.”

“Then rest,” Bakura ordered, poking his brother in the arm firmly. “I’ll clear these two idiots out so you can sleep, okay?”

“You go as well, then,” Ryou laughed softly. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” Kek scowled.

Marik rolled his eyes. Goodness, this lot were completely hopeless. He jumped off Bakura’s lap and grabbed his wrist with one hand, and Kek’s with the other. _“I’ll_ clear us _all_ out,” he smirked at Ryou. “Get some rest, and we’ll come to see you later.”

Ryou smiled gratefully at his friend, settling down into the bed. “I’ll text you as soon as I know myself what’s going on, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Just focus on yourself for now.”

“Mm. Will do. Thank you, Marik.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_And this is the end! I’d like to thank all my followers and friends for their support throughout, as this really hasn’t been an easy story to write. It’s required a lot of research, careful thought, and sensitive approach, but I’ve had some amazing people who have been there for me the whole time, guiding me, making sure I did justice to the issues herein. Eli, Joanna…I don’t know if you’re reading this, but I want you both to know that you have been such a massive help to me, and I couldn’t have written any of this without you._ **
> 
> ****  
>  **_Have some proper Deathshipping smut now. Thanks for your patience and see you all again soon!_ **
> 
> **_PS: Sorry not sorry for ending this on a songfic. I'm well and truly dragging you back to mid-noughties fanfic territory with this one._ **

* * *

Ryou was discharged from hospital after a week. The official diagnosis was sepsis, not from the actual reassignment surgery as Ryou had suspected, but from the insertion of his catheter, something he was told was more common than usually imagined. The catheter was changed, the insertion area well cleaned, and once sent home with additional oral antibiotics to stave off the infection, everything cleared up nicely.

He was left exhausted by the illness, however, and unable to complete even the most menial tasks around his apartment without wanting to curl up on the sofa and sleep for hours. His very bones ached, and everything felt like a painful chore. The doctors had warned him that this might be the case for a long time, though they couldn’t say for sure how long it would last. One thing was for sure: Ryou wasn’t going back to work anytime soon. The early wake-up was too much, and he physically couldn’t handle it without bursting into tears.

Ryou resisted the urge to ask for help for as long as he could, but eventually it got too much, and Kek began staying over for days at a time, helping him as he’d helped immediately following the surgery. Bakura came by often, as did Marik, neither wanting to leave everything up to Kek. Together, they made Ryou’s life a little easier, and gradually, his strength began to return, but it would be a long time until he felt like he was getting back to normal.

Over the next few months, Kek stopped returning home. His space was left vacant for a while, but eventually, Bakura moved in with Marik, once they’d all figured Kek wasn’t going to leave Ryou’s side anytime soon. And that was fine with Ryou. Having his boyfriend nearby did more for his recovery than any medication could have done, or so he felt.

Before any of them realised it, a year had passed since the surgery, and their story had come full circle; back to Egypt, where they had all met. Marik and Kek wanted to fly out to visit their siblings, and Ryou and Bakura’s visit to their father was well overdue. Bakura had no more leave to use at work, having used most of it on caring for Ryou, but he’d pretty much told Kaiba to go fuck himself, he was going whether he liked it or not. What was _Seto-sama_ going to do, fire him? Bakura was their best damn tech diagnostician; there was no way Kaiba would let that happen. He sent a few grouchy texts afterwards, sure, but apart from that, he had little else to say, and Yugi had just waved cheerfully, laughing behind Kaiba’s back the whole time.

As it turned out, Dr Bakura was too busy and buried in his work to be able to make time for his children, but that was something they were more than used to by now. It was a shame, really, but it couldn’t be helped. Instead, they all piled into Isis and Rishid’s house, which was looking rather empty and filled with boxes. “We are moving to Domino!” Isis said brightly over dinner. “We wanted to surprise you all when you arrived.”

_“Al-Okhti Al-Kubra!_ That’s amazing!” Marik exclaimed, reaching over the table to squeeze Isis’ hands. “Oh, it will be so good to have you both near us again!”

“It was long overdue,” Rishid murmured, smiling faintly over the rim of his wine glass.

Ryou feigned a look of mock annoyance. “I’m offended, dear Isis!” he proclaimed. “No excitable Twitter messages about this? I thought you loved me!”

“Oh, I do, sweetheart, but I know you well,” Isis laughed. “You would have run straight to Kek and ruined the secret.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there.”

Kek ruffled Ryou’s hair, grinning. “She isn’t wrong, huh?”

“Be quiet, you.”

“I thought _you_ loved _me!”_

Bakura rolled his eyes. “You two are so sickly, you might just put me off my food.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Marik cut in. “Nothing puts you off your food.”

“Your adding chickpeas to everything does.”

“Hey, you chose to move in with me, so you can either suck up the fact I love chickpeas or starve. You’re a useless cook.”

“I thought you loved me, Marik!”

“You’re an ass.”

“You love my ass.”

Isis and Rishid eyed each other and smiled knowingly. For all the back-and-forth banter their brothers dealt with their significant others, they knew it would be odd to have it any other way.

Afterwards, Rishid cleared away the dishes, and Marik, Kek, and Bakura headed off to play video games. Ryou made himself comfortable on the sofa in the living room, closing his eyes and sighing. He was very much enjoying being back in Egypt, but the flight had knocked him for six and he felt ready to pass out any moment.

“Can I do anything for you, Ryou?” Isis asked gently, perching herself on the seat beside Ryou. “You seem very tired. I can kick the boys out of the bedroom if you want to go and nap for a while.”

Ryou opened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m fine, Isis, but thank you. I just never thought I would be this exhausted all the time.”

“Was it worth it?” Isis’ own eyes were wide and curious.

“The sepsis? No, not at all. But everything else…yeah. Honestly, everything has been so amazing since we met you all, I sometimes have to pinch myself to believe it!” Ryou gave his arm a pinch to demonstrate. “You’re a wonderful family and I can’t tell you how grateful Tou and I are to have you in our lives.”

Isis blushed, a faint pink tinge darkening her cheekbones, and she leaned in and pecked Ryou on the cheek. “You are a darling,” she smiled. “You have looked after Kek so well; I have never seen him happier than when he is with you. Marik, too, with Bakura. It is as if Rishid and I have gained two more brothers, and it truly is wonderful.”

“Well, we’ve all been together long enough for you to call Tou and I brothers-in-law, I suppose,” Ryou smirked.

“And you may call me sister-in-law, if you wish.”

“I’d love that.”

Isis hugged Ryou, kissing his cheek again. “We are going to have to spend much more time together once Rishid and I have settled down in Domino. I believe you promised me in our last conversation that you would teach me how to apply that wonderful makeup of yours.”

“Isis, you’re the girlfriend I never knew I needed.”

* * *

When night fell, Ryou and Kek drove to a hotel. Isis and Rishid were happy for them all to stay the night, but with much of their possessions packed away now, nobody wanted to inconvenience them by adding to the clutter, so Marik and Bakura were the only ones who stayed. In any case, Kek at least was happy to get away from the possibility of spending the night near his brother and his boyfriend, knowing how much they had a tendency to argue well into the night. Instead, he got to look forward to a quiet night snuggled up with Ryou.

When they got to their hotel room, Kek took a shower, then slipped into his boxers and traded places with Ryou so he could put their luggage away. As he sorted through their clothes, putting them into little piles to deposit into drawers, his eyes fell on the smaller of the two opaque bottles that had fallen out from inside one of his t-shirts. Frowning, Kek picked up the smaller bottle, wondering whether he should have even packed it. The lube had been more of a “just in case” throw-in, and he and Ryou hadn’t been intimate at all since the night before Ryou’s surgery, so he wasn’t expecting much tonight.

The lack of said intimacy hadn’t bothered Kek at all; he couldn’t really blame Ryou for not wanting to, since he was constantly exhausted, and still adjusting to his new body. It hadn’t made their relationship strained or difficult, rather, Kek had relished it. They’d been able to get to know each other without carnal desires distracting them.

Smiling at the happy memories they shared together, Kek put the lube aside and picked up the larger bottle, sloshing the liquid inside back and forth. Massage oil, at least, was a little more innocuous. It was a blend of almond and lavender, the latter a scent that Kek knew Ryou adored.

“I hear oil!” Ryou poked his head round the ensuite door, clad just in boxers and with his hair wrapped in a towel.

Kek jumped in surprise, being so deep in thought he hadn’t heard the shower switch off. He gave an amused chuckle and set the bottle on the bed. “You’re like a cat hearing the opening of food, snowflake. Except with oil.”

“I like back rubs,” Ryou winked. Looking a little stiff and sore, he tossed the towel containing his hair aside, and flopped down on the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks for putting all that away,” he murmured, curling onto his side. “I could have done my own stuff, though.”

“Don’t be silly. I might as well have done it while I was already here.” Kek pulled himself up onto the bed behind Ryou, kissing the side of his neck gently. “Speaking of back rubs…would you like one?”

Ryou giggled, nodding in assent as he turned over onto his front. Kek snatched up the oil and swung a leg over Ryou to straddle him, resting his weight on the back of Ryou’s thighs. With one hand he uncapped the oil, and with the other he brushed Ryou’s hair away from his shoulders. “Comfortable?” Kek asked, and Ryou nodded again. Satisfied, Kek poured a little oil into his palm and rubbed his hands together, warming the oil, before sweeping his hands up Ryou’s back, over his shoulders and down his arms.

Kek was gentle, not working in too deep at this point, but Ryou still sighed happily and practically melted into the bed at Kek’s soothing touch. “Mmm…you’re so good at this…” he whispered.

Kek smiled, pleased by his lover’s reaction. With Ryou’s upper body now shimmering with the light coat of oil, he began working into the muscles. He started at Ryou’s shoulder blades, circling round them, then worked down his arms and back up to smooth across his lats. He knew Ryou was a little sensitive here, so he pressed a little harder to prevent it from tickling him. He was rewarded with a deep, throaty groan of pleasure. Moving downwards, into Ryou’s lower back, he ran his thumbs up either side of Ryou’s spine, watching the way he squirmed and cooed in his enjoyment.

“Gods…I could just lie here all night and let you rub me all over…” Ryou sighed.

Kek glanced up, smirking. “I can give you an all-over massage, if you like.”

“You had me at “I can.””

“Turn over,” Kek instructed, sliding off Ryou’s thighs. Ryou flipped onto his back and pushed himself upwards a little, nestling his head further into the pillows. Kek grinned to see Ryou’s cheeks flushed from enjoyment and anticipation as he sat cross-legged by Ryou’s feet and dripped a little more oil into his hands. He pulled one of Ryou’s feet into his lap and began working his fingers carefully up his sensitive sole and around his heel and ankle. Ryou giggled a little, but soon relaxed into the massage and closed his eyes, no longer finding it ticklish. Kek switched to the other foot, giving it the same treatment, then adjusted his position so he knelt with his knees either side of Ryou’s legs as he began working on his calves, and upwards to his thighs.

Ryou’s breathing sped up, becoming shallower, the further Kek’s hands moved towards his hips. An involuntary tremor ran through him, and he felt his cheeks flushing once more. “U-Um…Kek, I…”

“Should I stop?” Kek asked. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten Ryou into pushing him away.

Ryou shook his head. “N-No. Don’t stop…please. I…” Ryou closed his eyes and turned his head away a moment. When he looked back, he appeared more confident, smiling warmly. “Kek, I think it’s time.”

Kek’s heart thumped rapidly in his chest. “You’re not too tired?”

“A little, but…we can go gentle, can’t we?”

“Of course.”

The trust that Ryou was putting in him now…Kek knew the responsibility was immense. Ryou was still recovering, still unfamiliar with his new body, and Kek hadn’t explored him any more than Ryou himself had. Kek had to make this special for Ryou…for them both. He felt the weight of it heavy on his shoulders as he tucked his fingers into the waistband of Ryou’s boxers, looking up to him with questioning eyes. Ryou nodded and lifted his hips ever so slightly. Slowly, carefully, Kek slid the fabric away from Ryou’s slender body.

He’d seen Ryou naked before, of course. After his surgery, Ryou had needed help with changing the dressings, and once he’d healed, they had taken the odd shower or bath together. So Ryou’s body, the way it was always meant to be, wasn’t anything new to Kek. He’d seen it through bad times and good; the immense swelling and bruising in the week following the surgery; the discomfort of having a catheter sticking out of his abdomen for months; the jubilation when Ryou became aware that he’d retained all previous sensation; the sheer infectious joy when every last bit of swelling had gone down and Ryou was finally able to see the man he’d always been. Kek had been there for it all.

And now…this was all that was left. To see Ryou’s body through physical conjoining, the coupling both had held back on for so long. Ryou had summed it up better than Kek ever could have done… _it was time._

Ryou gazed up at Kek, smiling gently. That adorable pink flush still darkened his cheeks. “What are you thinking, love?” he whispered.

“That you’re beautiful…” Kek ran a hand over Ryou’s stomach, pausing briefly over the small scar the catheter had left behind, “…and that I’m over-dressed for the occasion.”

“Mmm…yes, I think you are.” Ryou giggled. Lifting a leg, he hooked his big toe into the waistband of Kek’s boxers and slowly pulled them down. They ended up tangled somewhat around Kek’s knees, and he made an awkward show of falling backwards so he could remove them fully, causing Ryou to laugh in merriment. “You’re such a dork,” he grinned, leaning over the side of the bed, to where Kek had fallen with an unceremonious _thump._

“Hush, you,” Kek muttered, but the expression on his face was good-natured. Well, at least his boxers were off now, tossed to some corner of the room where he wouldn’t be needing them again.

“While you’re down there…could you get the speaker out of my suitcase, please?”

Kek unzipped said suitcase and stuck his hand into it. “The Bluetooth one?”

“Yes, please.”

_You romantic piece of ass, you want music playing while we fuck. God, I love you,_ Kek thought to himself. He located the speaker and handed it over, pulling himself back onto the bed while Ryou connected his phone to the speaker and found the music he wanted. The soft strains of piano and electric guitar began to play, and Kek snorted, amused. “Lady Antebellum? Really, snowflake?”

_Oh, who am I kidding. It’s perfect._

Their lips met then, and they sank as one into the bed. Their hands roamed each other’s’ bodies, unsure and nervous at first, growing more confident as they continued to kiss and touch.

 

**_Everybody keeps tellin’ me I’m such a lucky man_ **

**_Lookin’ at you standin’ there, I know I am_ **

 

“I want you…” Ryou whispered against Kek’s lips, “my love…”

“Ryou…yes…I want you, too…”

 

**_Barefooted beauty with eyes that blue_ **

**_The sunshine sure looks good on you, I swear_ **

 

Ryou’s thighs parted, allowing Kek to settle between them. Kek’s kisses trailed to Ryou’s ear, suckling teasingly on the lobe before drifting downwards, brushing over his neck. Ryou moaned softly, arching up. Kek responded in kind with a roll of his hips, encouraging Ryou with the sweet, intoxicating pressure against the searing desire in their loins.

“Please tell me you brought lube,” Ryou panted urgently.

Kek laughed against Ryou’s collarbone. “As if I’d chance not bringing it.”

“Oh, Kek, please…I c-can’t wait…”

Kek’s lips began to trail downwards as he reached over the side of the bed for the discarded opaque bottle.

 

**_Oh, I can’t believe I finally found you, baby_ **

**_Happy ever after, after all this time_ **

 

Soft cries filled the dimly lit room. As Kek prepped Ryou with two well-slicked fingers, he took Ryou’s cock into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the slit, and bobbed his head back and forth, savouring the taste of his beloved.

Ryou was in mind-numbing heaven, sparks of ecstasy exploding in the pit of his stomach. Kek’s unflinching eagerness to pleasure him really drove home that Kek had truly never cared for what had lain between his legs. So long as they could find love and solace in one another…that was all that had ever mattered.

 

**_Oh, there’s gonna be some ups and downs_ **

**_But with you to wrap my arms around, I’m fine_ **

 

“I’m ready,” Ryou smiled, brushing Kek’s hair back from his eyes.

Kek looked up then, deep amethyst locking onto soft brown, and he nodded, pulling back from Ryou. He reached for the lube, never taking his eyes from Ryou as he coated himself. “How do you want this?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, um…how about…” Ryou rolled onto his side, as he had done when he’d first flopped down on the bed. “How about this?” he asked.

Kek nodded, approving. Ryou could control the intensity that way, and move closer or further as he needed. He slipped behind Ryou, kissing along his shoulders as he lifted Ryou’s top leg, spreading him open. With his free hand, he guided himself inside.

 

**_So baby, hold on tight_ **

**_Don’t let go_ **

 

He expected immediate resistance, but Ryou’s body was pliant and willing, and he slid in with little difficulty. He could feel tightness clamping down on him from all angles, and Ryou quivered as he breathed heavily, adjusting to the feeling of Kek buried so deep inside him.  Kek nestled his face into the damp, sweet-smelling locks of Ryou’s hair, and waited for Ryou to feel comfortable.

“It’s…a little odd,” Ryou laughed nervously. “It honestly feels like I need the bathroom…urgently.”

“I know,” Kek grinned. “Give it a minute. It’ll subside.”

After several moments, Ryou gave an experimental roll of his hips, and gasped at the sudden fire in his gut. It was _good._ Better than good. He really had no words. He still felt like he might split open any second, but he could push that aside and focus on the fact that _Kek was inside him._ Oh gods, Kek was inside him…they were really doing this. “Okay,” Ryou whispered, “you can go now.”

“Mmm…gladly.” Kek nipped Ryou’s ear playfully, then drew his hips back, sinking back in with just the right amount of pressure to make Ryou throw his head back and sigh with pleasure.

 

**_Hold on to the love we’re makin’_ **

**_‘Cause baby, when the ground starts shakin’, you gotta know_ **

 

They moved together, Ryou rocking his hips into Kek’s gentle thrusts and bowing his body back to press them as flush as he could. He twisted his neck to capture Kek’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss, gasping and moaning into his mouth even as Kek uttered his own growls and grunts, swept up in the heat of their coupling. As their pleasure built to a fever pitch, Ryou felt the heat in his belly spread downwards, growing ever hotter, more urgent. He couldn’t hold back anymore, and grabbed himself.

“Oh, yes,” Kek moaned. “Come for me, Ryou. Come for me.”

Acting on pure instinct, Ryou’s wrist flicked in quick jerks, catapulting him towards climax. When it hit him, he pressed himself back against Kek and screamed, feeling his heart rioting in chest from the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Barely a minute later, Kek followed him over the edge, and Ryou closed his eyes and sighed at the feeling of liquid warmth spilling inside him.

Kek released Ryou’s leg and dropped his head to Ryou’s shoulder, whispering under his breath in soft, shaky Arabic. Ryou’s own head jerked up, wondering if Kek had switched at the very last moment, but then he felt the low rumble of laughter in Kek’s chest, and he knew he was still there. “What are you laughing about?” he asked.

“I just…I feel awesome,” Kek grinned against Ryou’s shoulder, his voice steady now, back to its usual gruff self. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this damn _good!”_ He stroked Ryou’s arm, nestling closer. “How about you?”

“I feel…tired. So, nothing new. But…oh, Kek…” Ryou rocked his hips forward, Kek’s softening length slipping out of him with a slight twitch before he rolled over to face his lover, “that was wonderful. Thank you for making this special.”

Kek blushed, his nose scrunched up bashfully.  “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, snowflake…if you don’t get sick of me before that, anyway.” He flashed Ryou a wink and stuck his tongue out before heaving himself up off the bed, stretching. “But I know I’m utterly irresistible to you, so no point in worrying about that, am I right?”

Ryou giggled and held out his arms; Kek swept him up against his chest, bridal-style. “You got it!” He kissed Kek’s nose, nuzzling it afterwards. “I love you, you big hunk of muscle. I’d never, ever get sick of you.”

“I love you too, _hayati.”_ Kek started towards the bathroom, cradling Ryou close. “Now, let’s get cleaned up and sleep.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Never. I’m going to shower you with compliments for as long as we live.”

_Well,_ Ryou thought to himself, _I’d be more than up for that._

 

**_When you got a good thing…_ **

 


End file.
